


The Redemption of Severus Snape

by ShadyGrim



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-08-14 03:28:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 70
Words: 146,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7996978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadyGrim/pseuds/ShadyGrim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can Snape love someone other than Lily? What would it take to get his attention and gain his trust? Is he worth loving? These questions and more are answered in this psychological love story. This isn't a sappy romance. There is a progression from tolerance, to understanding, to love, with emphasis on Snape's redemptive cycle. This story occurs during the original Potter novels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just having some fun with her characters. No profit is being made from this story.
> 
> A/N: This is a work in progress. Some of the chapters may seem hurried; that's b/c they're essentially still in draft form, so please judge accordingly. I know there are some canon-compliancy issues that need to be worked out too. The early chapters focus a lot on getting to know the OC. Have patience, Snape will get a lot more attention later on.

### Prologue:

"What a beautiful sunny morning," thought a thin red-haired man as he walked with all the other office workers on their way to begin the workday. He was drawn away from his happy private reverie by a lovely, well-dressed, young girl who was kneeling on the sidewalk next to her car, changing a flat tire. He estimated the girl to be close in age with his oldest son. She was already placing the lug nuts onto the new tire. The flat one was sitting behind her. He was about to offer his assistance when he noticed that one of the lug nuts had rolled away from her on the uneven ground. She reached for it without turning her head. The man was just about to bend down to pick it up for her when he noticed a faint blue light, barely visible in the bright sunshine, surround the lug nut, and it rolled back up the pavement into her hand. He was taken aback by what he saw as he'd not sensed anything from this girl. She seemed to be like every other Muggle he'd ever met.

The girl stood and placed the tire iron she had been using in her car's trunk. She turned back to pick up the flat tire when the man spoke, "I'll get that for you." She smiled pleasantly and thanked him as he dropped the tire into the trunk. She opened a white plastic container and pulled out a couple of small wet towelettes for his hands, and then did the same for herself. She chatted amiably with him, all small talk. "Good thing it's a sunny day. It's miserable having to change a tire in the rain."

The man replied, "Yes, I know what you mean, but at least you weren't caught on a country lane. There's nothing worse than to have to kneel in mud with torrents of rain pouring down on you."

"Oh, yes, that would have been horrid," said the girl. She thanked him again, and he tipped his hat and watched her enter her vehicle and drive off. He made a mental note of the vehicle's license plate and make; new model, dark-green Jaguar, camel-colored interior... 

### Chapter 1

All of Hogwarts' professors were gathered in Dumbledore's office at his request; some stood, some sat, some chatted, and others, like Severus Snape, were silent. All were waiting for Dumbledore to tell them what was so urgent. He was currently speaking quietly with Minerva McGonagall on the far side of his office. McGonagall listened intently, as if to instruction, then nodded her head. Dumbledore immediately turned to face the little congregation. "Thank you all for coming. This will only take a moment of your time. It has been brought to my attention that a certain young lady has been overlooked by us, and is in need of proper magical instruction."

"That's not possible, Albus. Magical children never go unnoticed by Hogwarts. The Magical Quill detects them at birth," said Filius Flitwick from his cozy overstuffed chair.

"She's a special case, Filius. Apparently her abilities are only just beginning to appear."

"How old is this girl?" asked Pomona Sprout from an identical chair next to Flitwick.

"Twenty-four," replied Dumbledore cheerily, as if there was nothing at all odd about her age. He was answered by a chorus of low groans from the professors.

"Is Hogwarts to play host to imbeciles now, Headmaster?" asked Snape, who was followed up by Flitwick. "She's far too old to attend Hogwarts, Albus. Isn't there an alternative?"

"Technically she will not be a Hogwarts student. I have no intention of sorting her or placing her in any classes."

"Well, how do you expect us to teach her anything?" asked Sprout, her brow furrowed in bewilderment.

Dumbledore chose not to answer Sprout directly, opting instead to address everyone. "In light of the young lady's unusual circumstances, I must ask all of you to provide individual tuition." This statement was followed by a louder chorus of groans and some of the professors began to pace in irritation. "I know it is an imposition on all of you, but I ask this as a personal favor to me. This girl is near and dear to my heart. I know that you will all find her as delightful and charming as I do. Thank you."

The small congregation rose and left, grumbling all the way. Snape stayed behind, waiting for everyone to leave before he spoke. "Are you certain that this is a good idea, Headmaster?"

"Absolutely, Severus."

Snape didn't receive the answer he wanted, and so chose another tactic. "Latent magical abilities tend not to develop beyond a modest degree. Are you certain that it's in the girl's best interest to be exposed to the many talented young wizards and witches at Hogwarts?"

"Possibly not, but it will certainly be in our best interests," replied Dumbledore.

"How so, Headmaster?"

"Severus, this girl has managed to keep herself secret from us, and I suspect she's done it for a considerable amount of time. That ability alone may prove very useful to us in the future. Minerva and I are on our way to meet the young lady. We shan't be gone more than a couple of hours--"

"Meet her?" said Snape. "Did you not just say that the girl is dear to you?"

"Well, I have no doubt that she will be." Dumbledore grinned, his eyes dancing. His attire and hair changed in an instant. He now wore a brown tweed suit complete with matching cap and leather patches on his elbows. His hair and beard were short and neatly trimmed. McGonagall drew nearer and Snape could see that she was now wearing a high-necked, white, linen blouse; a long, red, tartan skirt; a red tartan bonnet; and a short, grey, tweed blazer. They looked every bit the well-to-do, conservative, country couple. "How do we look, Severus?" asked Dumbledore, obviously very proud of his fashion sense.

"Stunning, Headmaster," Snape replied flatly.

#

Lindsay sat at her piano with a pencil tucked behind her ear. She was frowning a little as her fingers moved over the piano keys, attempting to work out the kinks in the melody she'd just written. She abruptly stopped playing and listened to what sounded like a powerful howling gust of wind. She rose to look out a heavily curtained window. Lindsay kept the curtains drawn to protect the musical instruments in the room, many of which were antique, from damaging sunlight.

She peered out the window to witness a violent rainstorm; the worst she'd ever seen in the ten years she'd lived in England. The sky was black. The rain came down so ferociously that it almost completely obscured her vision. She was startled by a loud crash, and couldn't tell at first from where the sound had come. Finally, she ran to the front door, opened it, and peered into the torrential rain.

Two vaguely visible figures emerged from something large and bright yellow. There was a low stone wall that bordered her pebbled driveway. The yellow thing was directly on top of where the wall should be. "It must be a car," thought Lindsay. "Someone must have driven it into the wall." She ran out the door toward the two figures. "Hello! Is everyone okay?"

"We're fine, dearie," answered a woman with a Scottish accent, "but I'm not so sure the same can said of your garden wall."

"Don't worry about that. It can be fixed," said Lindsay as she hooked her arm through the woman's. The accompanying gentleman was holding the Scottish woman's other arm. "Just come with me into the house, and we'll get you sorted out."

They entered into a large vestibule, and from there passed through large doors into an even larger front hall. They were all drenched to the skin. "Have a seat here," said Lindsay as she escorted them to a long, dark, wooden bench with scarlet red upholstery. "Do either of you have a headache, sore neck, any aches or pains?"

"No, dearie, we're fine."

"I should still call for an ambulance."

"That won't be necessary," said the gentleman.

"You may feel fine now," said Lindsay as she walked across the hall to a high table with an old telephone sitting atop it, "but you'll likely feel very differently when your adrenaline has died down." She continued to speak with her back turned to them as she tapped the telephone, trying to get it to work. "You're most likely fine, as you say, but adrenaline can mask some serious injuries. Most are easily treatable, but only if we get you to hospital in a reasonable amount of time. Ugh, the phone's dead. I'll try the cordless one. I doubt it'll work, but it's worth a try." She glanced at the couple. The gentleman was now standing and both were bone dry. The recognition was barely perceptible, but both Dumbledore and McGonagall were sure the girl had seen the change in them, and was trying to convince herself otherwise. "It's just here in my study." Lindsay sloshed through an open doorway and emerged seconds later. "No luck there either." She stopped suddenly and her eyes widened as she saw the man pull an odd-looking stick from his sleeve and point it at her. She was instantly dry. "What's going on here?"

"My name is Albus Dumbledore and this is Minerva McGonagall. We are professors at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We've come here to invite you to our school and to teach you how to use your gift."

"Okay," said Lindsay slowly. "Look, I don't know what you people are up to, but you can clearly see that this place is in disrepair. The valuable items that may once have occupied the rooms here are all gone. And if, by chance, it's me you're interested in, I am well versed in several forms of martial arts, and I will have no problem breaking your necks." That last statement made McGonagall harrumph in indignation.

"We don't want to harm you," said Dumbledore, "only help you."

"Thank you for the concern, Mr. Dumbledore," said Lindsay stiffly, "but I don't need help from anyone. Now if you would follow me to my car, I'll drive you to hospital myself."

Dumbledore said nothing as he turned to a closed door behind him. "That door is locked, sir," said Lindsay curtly. Dumbledore waved his hand over the doorknob and the door swung open. He motioned for McGonagall to enter the room ahead of him. She was taken aback by the wreckage within. The walls were scorched. The scant amount of furniture was split in half, or otherwise broken, and scorched. The white marble mantel was essentially a pile of rubble. The windows were mired in dirt and full of cracks; thick tape had been spread over them. In the middle of it all, on the floor directly in front of the fireplace, sat the melted remains of a cordless phone. McGonagall and Dumbledore moved farther into the room, and Lindsay was forced to follow them.

"You did this," said Dumbledore, his blue eyes shimmering. Lindsay just stared at him. "You had an angry disagreement with a former friend, and this was the result."

Lindsay's face blanched. "Rebecca sent you here?"

"No," answered Dumbledore.

"Then who? No one else knows about the fight."

"You know," replied Dumbledore.

"I'm not playing any more games with you, Mr. Dumbledore. Please leave." Lindsay's voice remained controlled, but her tone was icy.

"You had a disagreement over the ownership of this property. It had belonged to Rebecca's uncle, but he left it to you instead of her, which enraged her. She spoke to you via that," Dumbledore pointed to the melted phone. "She threatened you and made you angry. That anger erupted into the devastation we see here. You melted that while you were still holding it. It burnt your ear."

"How did you...I never told anyone...?

"Look out your window. You'll see that the storm has passed and there is no yellow car, or any damage to your property."

Lindsay rubbed a clear spot on the dirty windowpane and peered outside. Everything was as Dumbledore said. She turned back to see that their clothes and hair had changed completely. She shook her head in disbelief. "No...no, it can't be. This isn't real."

McGonagall told Lindsay to watch as she removed her wand from its pocket, and pointed it at a broken down settee. Lindsay watched incredulously as it turned into a hippopotamus. "Go on, touch it," said McGonagall. Lindsay ran her trembling hand over the animal, and it felt warm and life-like. McGonagall flicked her wand again, and the hippo turned back into the broken settee.

"I think this would be a good time for a nice hot cup of tea, don't you?" said Dumbledore.

#

"My family was killed in a car crash when I was fourteen. It started not long after that." Lindsay sat at the head of her dining room table. Dumbledore sat to her right and McGonagall to her left. They each had a cup of tea in front of them. A tray covered in biscuits and sweets sat between them. Dumbledore had already tried one of each.

"And it has been getting steadily stronger since then," said Dumbledore.

"Yes."

"I assure you that it wasn't the tragic event that triggered your abilities, but I have no doubt that the emotional distress you felt intensified its initial manifestation, which evidently caused you even greater distress. Latent magical abilities are rare, but not unheard of, and they would have appeared regardless of the events in your life." Dumbledore dunked a biscuit into his tea and popped it into his mouth. "You keep a very nice home, quite neat and clean."

"Thank you," said Lindsay, confused by the sudden change of subject. "I'm in the middle of restoring this place. I'm about two-thirds finished."

"Yet you allow that one room to remain broken and dirty, might I ask why?"

"I keep it as a reminder to myself ...of what I've done and what I could do."

McGonagall clasped her hand over Lindsay's. "We can help you understand and control your magic. If you come with us to Hogwarts, you'll meet many people just like yourself."

"I don't know. I-I have work..."

"You admit that your magic is getting stronger, controlling it is getting more difficult. You fear that one day you might do to a person what you did to that room. I assure you, your anxiety is well-founded."

"Albus!"

Lindsay blanched again, and her hand trembled under McGonagall's. "Okay, alright, I'll do it."

#

Lindsay saw them out, and they strolled leisurely across the stony driveway. "It's remarkable, Albus. I sensed no magic at all in the girl."

"Nor did I, Minerva. She is uniquely gifted, but I'm very concerned about her state of mind. She has a tremendous fear of her abilities, and I must admit that I'm at a loss as to how to deal with the matter."

"I don't think frightening her as you did was the best choice."

"That was unfortunate, but necessary. We would never have convinced her to come with us otherwise. I think the best course of action would be to treat her as any other first year student and deal with any issues as they arise."

"I agree," said McGonagall. "I'll personally see about getting her settled in. A quick trip to Diagon Alley and she'll be set."

"Thank you, Minerva, but do me this one favor. Don't take her to Ollivander's."

"She must have a wand, Albus."

"I prefer to take care of that myself." In mid-stride, the two figures disappeared into thin air, followed quickly by an audible crack.


	2. Chapter 2

The professors who were to be Lindsay's instructors were gathered in Dumbledore's office waiting for her to arrive. Minerva McGonagall had gone to fetch her and was due back at any moment. Everyone was sitting and chatting and drinking tea, except for Snape, who stood stock still at some distance from everyone else looking sour and put-upon. At last, they heard McGonagall's voice as she entered the room with Lindsay in tow. The headmaster moved to greet them while the rest of the faculty stood and formed an informal line.

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore, it's so good to see you again."

Snape eyed her as she chatted casually with the headmaster. His eyes slowly moved over every inch of her, taking in every detail. She had long, dark-red hair, fair skin, and large, vivid blue eyes. She was large in other places too, specifically on either side of her chest. She had a lean build, slim round hips, and a small waist. She wore a light-blue silk blouse with no collar and a low neckline. He surmised that her choice of dress was designed to make a favorable impression on her male instructors. She wore fitted gray trousers that outlined her long slim legs. She was very tall and wore low-heeled black dress boots. Dumbledore escorted her over to introduce her to her teachers, and Snape had to raise his eyes a little to look at her.

Remus Lupin, out of the corner of his eye, noticed something odd about Snape's posture, and turned his head to look at him. He was troubled by the force of Snape's gaze and the rigidity of his body. His concern deepened as an oddly indignant expression crept into Snape's features. It was as if Snape was bracing himself against something. The girl appeared not to notice or, at least, not be bothered by it. She smiled warmly at Snape as Dumbledore introduced him to her. Snape flinched, almost imperceptively, when she extended her hand, but accepted it. His cheeks reddened and he dropped his gaze when she laid her other hand over the back of his. The girl clearly saw and understood his reaction, and softly patted his hand before releasing it. Lupin managed to quell the laugh that desperately wanted to erupt from him, but couldn't prevent a mischievous smile from taking over his features. As Snape brought his eyes back up, he noticed Lupin observing him. Snape's eyes narrowed into a hate-filled glare, and his mouth curled into a sneer. Lupin winked at him.

The girl was next introduced to Flitwick. She modestly placed her left hand over the front of her blouse as she bent down onto one knee to speak to him, and placed it there again as she rose to greet Lupin. Each of her professors were greeted with the same warm smile and extended hand. Snape watched her carefully as she was introduced to Rubeus Hagrid, curious to see her reaction to the half-giant.

"Professor Hagrid," she said as she extended her hand to him. Her bearing gave no indication that Hagrid appeared unusual to her. Judging by her demeanor alone, one would think Hagrid's height and proportions were commonplace.

"Jus' Hagrid."

"Okay, Hagrid, it is. You're the one I've been most anxious to meet. I'm very fond of animals, though I admit that I've had little experience with them. But, I promise you, I'm not afraid of hard work or getting my hands dirty." Hagrid beamed with pride and immediately invited her tea, which she accepted. "Yes, I'd very much like that."

Lupin leaned toward Snape and whispered, "Pretty, isn't she?"

Snape glared at him. "To some, perhaps."

"Now that everyone's been met, I think it's time to show you where you'll be staying," said McGonagall. Lindsay followed her out of the headmaster's office toward Gryffindor Tower. "Now remember to pay attention to the staircases; they have a tendency to move." Lindsay's eyes were wide with disbelief. Staircases moved by themselves, ghosts greeted her, and the most bizarre thing of all, the portraits not only moved, but spoke. McGonagall spoke to a noisy aggressive portrait, which she identified as Sir Cadogan. The portrait then moved to let them pass. "This is the Gryffindor common room. That staircase leads to the boys and girls dormitories. Due to your age, I've decided it would be best for you to have more private quarters." McGonagall looked about and muttered, "Hmph, all boys," then spotted two girls sitting together and talking. "Oh, Miss Granger, come here please...and you too Miss Weasley. Follow me girls."

They passed through a large oak door to another hallway. "At the end of this hallway are my quarters, should you need me. You'll be staying in here." Lindsay followed McGonagall into a cozy little sitting room. A long couch flanked by two well-stuffed chairs surrounded a table that sat in front of a small fireplace. There was a good deal of space behind the couch, and plenty of room for Lindsay's painting supplies, which were already laid out for her. Her easel stood with a blank canvas upon it. Her guitar and violin were still in their cases and leaned against the wall next to a spacious oak desk. At the far end of the room was kitchenette, next to which was a closed door. "Through there is a washroom and your bedroom." McGonagall turned to look for the two girls. She spied them standing uneasily in the hallway and invited them in. "Come in girls. I'll introduce you properly in just a moment. Now, Miss Gray, students normally have a curfew, but because of your age I've chosen not impose one on you. That freedom will be revoked, however, should you prove yourself to be irresponsible. You may wander the castle at will, but I must ask that you do not walk the grounds after dark; this is for your own safety. Also, no student may leave Hogwarts' grounds unless escorted by a teacher; this is also for your own safety. Do you understand everything so far?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good, make sure you're well acquainted with the school's handbook." She waved the two girls closer. "This is Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley. They will show you about the castle and help you get settled in. Do you have any questions?"

"No, ma'am," answered Lindsay.

"Excellent, I'll be leaving you in their capable hands then." Professor McGonagall wasn't gone a full ten seconds when two red-heads appeared in Lindsay's doorway.

"May we come in?" they said in unison.

"Yes, of course," said Lindsay as she walked toward them to introduce herself. "I'm Lindsay."

"You'll be sorry for that," said Ginny.

Fred took Lindsay's hand and shook it vigorously. "I'm Fred." As Fred released her hand, George grabbed it and did precisely the same thing. "And I'm George."

"We're twins," they said in unison.

"Really? I would never have guessed. Come in, make yourselves at home." Ginny winced.

"Quite nice," said Fred looking about the room.

"Just you, is it?" asked George.

"Yes, it's just me," answered Lindsay.

A three-leaved picture frame sat open on her desk. Ginny noticed it, and picked it up to see three generations of an uncommonly handsome family. "Is this your family?"

"They were, they're all gone now," answered Lindsay. Ginny blushed and apologized as she set the pictures back down. "Oh, it's alright. It was a long time ago. Amazing how quickly time passes." Lindsay picked the photos up and said, "I always keep them with me, but I never set them out or I end up staring at them for hours."

She lowered her hands and opened the hinged leaves for everyone to see. "Both sets of my grandparents are in the middle frame. I was about six when that photo was taken, and they were already well into their eighties." She pointed to the man in the front. He was seated in a plain chair as was the woman, presumably his wife, who was next to him. The other couple was standing behind them. All of them looked strong and youthful for their ages, as if they had remained athletic throughout their lives. "You can't tell because his hair is white here, but he's the one that gave me my red hair. Everyone else in my family was blond. His name was Henry, but most people called him Big Red."

Lindsay strongly resembled her grandfather. They both had the same vivid blue eyes and the same pleasantly mischievous expression. "He's sitting down in almost all of the pictures I have of him because it was the only way to fit him in with everyone else. He was so tall, he just towered over everyone. It still seems strange to see him that way since he was always so active. He was never still even at that age."

She then pointed to the photograph on the right. "That's me at fourteen with my sister, who was twenty-two, and my brother, who was twenty-four. This picture was taken just before we moved to England." All three were standing. Lindsay's brother stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders; her sister stood next to her. Her brother wore a well-tailored navy suit. Their sister wore a conservative burgundy dress, and Lindsay wore a light green dress, her long hair neatly braided. "My sister's name was Melody and my brother's was Noble. We called him Nob. He hated it. And, lastly, here are my parents with my sister and brother. This was taken before I was born. My mother was actually pregnant with me when this photo was taken, but she didn't know it. I was an unexpected gift." Lindsay smiled and folded the picture frame, placing in the desk's top drawer. Two more framed photos, one of an elderly woman and another of an elderly man, also sat on the desk. Lindsay placed them in the drawer on top of the other photos.

"So what happened to them?" asked Fred. Ginny elbowed him.

"Well, my grandparents all died of natural causes long before we moved out of the country. My parents and siblings died in a car accident. They were on their way to work and got broadsided by a drunk driver. I then went to live with a family friend. He died unexpectedly, and I wound up living with his mother. Sweet woman, quite aged, I was fond of her. She suffered terribly from rheumatism. She passed away right before I went to college."

"Where are you from originally?" said Hermione. "Your accent sounds a bit American."

"I'm from Baltimore, Maryland."

"I suppose it was a shock for you--to live in a different country, I mean," said Ginny.

"Not at all, I was accustomed to travel by a very young age. I can settle in anywhere."

"So they all worked at the same place," said George. "Is that typical for Muggles?"

"Typical for what?"

"Muggles," said Hermione. "That means non-magical people."

"Some people do; some people don't. They all played in a classical orchestra. My mother and sister played the violin. My father and brother played the viola."

"So musical talent runs in the family," said Fred as he opened Lindsay's violin case. George did the same with her guitar case. "Do you play in an orchestra too?"

"No, I'm not nearly good enough."

"No need to be modest with us," said George with a broad smile.

"Not modest, just truthful. I would describe my playing as above average, but their skills were prodigious. It took me years to learn to play well. They took to their instruments immediately."

"Do you play anything else?" asked Ginny.

"I also play piano. Guitar is my favorite instrument, but the violin is my best."

"Let's see...what else can we ask you?" said Fred.

"I'll help you out," said Lindsay. "I'm six feet tall. My favorite color is blue, light blue specifically. I like to sing. I took dance classes from age five to seventeen. At which time, I was told that I'm far too tall to be a dancer. I suspect that was my instructor's way of nicely telling me that I wasn't good enough to make dancing a career. I'm a Pisces and I talk a lot, sometimes too much. How's that?"

"Not bad," answered Fred as he moved to snoop around the kitchenette.

"You mentioned going to college?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, here it comes," said Fred.

Hermione ignored him. "What did you study?"

"I have degrees in music theory, art history, and medicine," answered Lindsay.

"You have a medical degree?" blurted Hermione excitedly.

"Careful there," said George. "Granger will be drooling in a minute."

"Did you study all that at the same time?" asked Ginny looking more than a little skeptical.

"Yes," answered Lindsay, who was accustomed to the question. "I have an eidetic memory. Most people call it a--"

"--photographic memory," blurted Hermione. "Sorry."

"It's okay," laughed Lindsay.

"Since your cupboards are completely barren, and we have no interest in letting Granger start talking about bookish things, George and I will be delighted to show you to the kitchen," said Fred as he offered Lindsay his arm, which she took.

"Not without us," warned Ginny. "You two aren't getting her into trouble on her first day."

"Honestly, Ginny, you're starting to sound like Mum," said George.

"So what brings you to Hogwarts?" asked Fred.

"Long story, I'll explain on the way to the kitchen."


	3. Chapter 3

Lindsay sat on a large overstuffed sofa in the common room, flanked by Fred and George. She had just been introduced to Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Neville Longbottom. Neville was talking about his grandmother when Lindsay felt something poke her head. She turned to see a paper airplane floating in the air next to her.

"You'd better read that," said Hermione, but Lindsay was beaten to it by George.

"I bet it's from Snape," said Ron. "Likely a detention for being foreign."

"You're half right, Ron," said George. "It is from Snape. Apparently Lindsay's first potions class is in fifteen minutes."

"It's just like him to give you your first lesson on a Saturday, only three hours after you've arrived," said Harry spitefully.

"I met him in the headmaster's office this morning," said Lindsay. "He seems a bit shy." The twins burst into laughter. "What's so funny?"

"'Seems a bit shy', she says," repeated Fred.

"'What's so funny', she says" repeated George.

"Snape," began Fred, "is a petty, nasty, wanker..."

"...with a particular hatred for Gryffindors," finished George. "He's commonly known as the Greasy Git and is the most hated teacher at Hogwarts."

"I had a teacher like that in middle school--huge woman. She had a metal yardstick that she'd hit the kids with. She was like a ninja with a thing," said Lindsay.

"Ninja?" said Ron.

"Later," replied Harry.

"I bet you were terrified of her," said Neville, who'd gone pale and was beginning to look ill.

"No, we got along just fine. I stayed out of her way, and she didn't skull me with her yardstick." Lindsay rose to change her clothes for what she anticipated to be a messy class. She slung a well-worn, olive-green, canvas messenger bag over her shoulder and left for the potions lab. She was escorted by the twins, who sang dirges all the way there. She was about to knock on the door when she heard a smooth male voice on the other side of it say, "Enter." Fred and George both gave her a thumbs-up as they silently backed away.

"Good to see you again, Professor," said Lindsay cheerily as she opened the door. Snape was skulking around a work table. "Your timing is impeccable." Lindsay was wearing the same warm smile she'd shown him earlier. Snape had steeled himself for her visit and was determined not to make such a colossal ass of himself twice in the same day. An array of herbs, some fresh, some dried, and some bottled, were arranged on a table behind him, along with a cauldron and other potions-making supplies.

"Sit," said Snape. She obeyed and looked up at him, calmly meeting his gaze. He couldn't stop a small flush of color from appearing in his cheeks. He held up the stalk of a dried plant with small pink flowers. "What is this?"

"Dittany," answered Lindsay.

"And this?" Snape held up another stalk, this time the flowers were large and white.

"White Dittany."

"Give me another name for it."

"False Dittany."

"And this one?" He held a stalk that had light purple flowers.

"Um...also False Dittany."

He held both stalks of False Dittany in front of her, very close to her face. So close that she leaned back slightly. "How do you know?"

"Their leaves are identical, and they both smell lemony."

He turned and placed all of the stalks on the table behind him, then turned back to her. "What is a bezoar?"

"It's a concretion most commonly found in the gastrointestinal organs of ruminant animals." The rapid-fire questioning continued for a full thirty minutes and covered a great portion of the textbook she'd been required to study. He then told her to take out her textbook and prepare the first potion using the ingredients on the table. All of the labels had been removed from the bottled herbs, and Lindsay had to smell them to identify them. She picked up a small brown bottle and un-stoppered it. She sniffed it, but couldn't identify it. "I don't know what this is." Snape arched an eyebrow and said nothing. "Okay, I'll just set it aside then."

She successfully chose the correct ingredients and began brewing the potion. Her textbook sat next to her and was turned to the correct page, but she never looked at it. Snape was puzzled, but remained silent. He slowly walked around her, studying her from every angle. She smelled faintly of gardenia. Her hair, which was tied back, was thick, wavy, and lustrous. It was an uncommon and fetching shade of dark red. His incessant pacing around her didn't seem to bother her in the slightest. She appeared relaxed and confident. Her eyes were downcast as she focused on her work. He thought it odd that her face showed no signs of consternation. Most new students look nervous and confused, and frequently check and re-check their textbooks.

He inspected her potion when it was done and said, "This is acceptable. Brew the second one." The contents of the cauldron disappeared with a silent flick of his wand, and Lindsay immediately set about brewing the next potion. Again, she brewed it correctly without looking at her textbook. He then had her brew a third with the same results. "This lesson is over. You may go."

###

Seven worried faces were gathered in front of the common room's fireplace, all waiting for Lindsay's return. "Is everything alright?" asked Lindsay.

"You were gone for hours," blurted Hermione.

"We thought maybe he poisoned you," said Neville.

Lindsay began to laugh, but stopped abruptly when Neville's expression didn't change. "Teachers don't poison their students, Neville."

"You don't know Snape," said Harry matter-of-factly. His eyes looked heavy and half-closed as he stared into the flickering flames, his arms folded across his chest. He appeared to have only a mild interest in the conversation.

Lindsay wasn't sure how to take their reactions, so she chose to change the subject. "There was a creepy, blobbish, man-thing floating around the hallway singing a very rude song. It disappeared through a wall. Anybody know what it is?"

"That would be Peeves," said Hermione. "He's a poltergeist, best to stay away from him if you can."

Lindsay looked relieved. "Oh, good, I thought I was hallucinating."

"There's a lot you have to get used to," said Harry through a yawn.

"Well...tell us what happened," urged Ginny.

"That was the most grueling class I've ever had. I'm exhausted. First he asked me a bunch of questions, and then I had to brew three potions--"

"Three?" shouted Hermione.

"Git," mumbled the twins.

"There weren't any labels on the bottled herbs. I had to identify them by smell. I felt like an idiot."

"I hope he doesn't do that to me," said Neville, swallowing hard with a noticeable tremor developing in his hands. "What if he makes me drink something...?"

"Neville," said Ginny as she placed a reassuring hand on Neville's shoulder. "Calm down. Think happy thoughts."

"I hope you have an awfully good sense of smell," said Harry.

"The photographic memory really helps," answered Lindsay.

"What does that have to do with smelling things?" asked Ron.

"Herbal scents are described in detail in the potions textbook, Ronald," said Hermione. "If you opened it once in a while, you'd know that."

"I think I did badly. He said the potions were acceptable, but that's it. He said nothing else the whole time I was there, except to tell me to leave."

"Snape only talks when you've made mistakes, so you must've done well," said Hermione. "I've never heard him tell anyone that a potion was acceptable. That probably means you did very, very well."

"Or very, very bad," said Ron.

"Ignore him," said Hermione.


	4. Chapter 4

Exhausted from her first class, Lindsay chose to make her own dinner and have it in her chambers. She retired early and awoke just before sunrise, as was her habit. Normally she would've gone for a run, but she hadn't mapped out a route on the grounds yet. She contented herself with exercises that could be performed in her sitting room: push-ups, sit-ups, squats, and hand-stands. She showered and dressed and was about to make herself some breakfast when she heard a knock at her door. The Weasley twins burst in without hesitation. "Going to Hogsmeade?" asked Fred.

"Going where?"

"I told you she wouldn't know what it was," said George.

"Hogsmeade is a village," said Fred. "We go there on weekends."

"We'd love to show you around," said George.

"Uh, yeah sure, I'd love to," said Lindsay. "I was just about to make breakfast--"

"Don't do that," said the twins. "Come to the Great Hall."

Fred and George described Hogsmeade in detail as they escorted Lindsay to the Great Hall. She suspected that the majority of what they said wasn't true, but it was certainly entertaining. "That's the Great Hall there," said Fred. He pointed to an enormous stone doorway, flanked by two huge, open, wooden doors. Students were lazily coming and going.

Lindsay greeted Professor McGonagall who had just emerged from between the doors. "Oh, Miss Gray, I wanted to speak with you. Go ahead boys, Miss Gray will be along shortly. I forgot to tell you that this is a Hogsmeade weekend."

"Yes, the twins were telling me. They said they'd show me the village."

"Oh, good," said McGonagall. "Students walk to Hogsmeade, so make sure you dress warmly."

"I'll do that."

"One last this, Miss Gray," said McGonagall. Her expression was earnest as she placed a hand on Lindsay's arm. "And this is very important. Don't eat or drink anything the twins offer you."

"Er...okay."

"Remember," said McGonagall as she walked on.

The twins stood and waved when Lindsay entered the Great Hall. She sat down between them clearly in awe of the room's immensity. "So what's the protocol? Is there a buffet, or waiters, or what?" The twins began to laugh hysterically.

"The house-elves send everything up from the kitchens," said Hermione from across the table. "Most things are already here as you can see." Hermione pointed to the plates of toast, and sausages, and other breakfast foods lining the center of the table. "If you'd like something else, you can ask for it, but you must be polite. Watch me. May I have a bowl of porridge with a bit of cinnamon and apple, please?" Within seconds a deep, golden bowl of steaming porridge appeared in front of Hermione. "Now you try."

"May I have a cheese omelet and a cup of dark roasted coffee, please?" Lindsay laughed in disbelief when it appeared before her. It was one of the most amazing things she'd ever seen, yet everyone else at the table seemed totally indifferent. "So the house elves just sent this from the kitchen? I feel like I'm in a dream."

Fred and George both took a forkful of Lindsay's omelet. "Nope, not dreaming," they said.

###

The twins insisted on stopping at Honeydukes first. There were so many kids in the shop that it was hard to get in the door. They entered in single file with Fred at the front and George at the back. Lindsay had her hand on Fred's shoulder to avoid being separated from him. George did the same with her. The few kids that tried to push between them were bounced off the twins like pinballs.

"You should get some chocolate frogs," said Fred.

"They'll be good starter sweets for you," said George.

"Starter sweets?" laughed Lindsay. "I've had candy before, guys."

"Not like these," said the twins.

Lindsay took off one her gloves, unbuttoned her coat, and fished around in her inside pocket. She retrieved a moderately sized baby-blue velvet pouch and handed it to George. "I'm not used to the money yet. Do you think there's enough to get something for all the Gryffindors? The first and second year kids must be feeling left out."

George felt the weight of the pouch and passed it to Fred, who peered in the bag. "Are you rich or something?"

"Hmm, what would be the easiest way to answer that? Um...yes."

Their shocked looks turned to enthusiastic grins. They turned quickly and pushed their way to the counter. "Make way...Coming through...Important business here."

Lindsay felt someone fall into her back and push her forward. "Sorry," said a familiar voice. She turned and greeted Neville Longbottom and began a conversation while waiting for the twins, who appeared to be buying far more than they needed. Some of the crowd began to thin out and Lindsay noticed something floating past her head. She thought someone was blowing bubbles, and she turned out to be partially correct. There was a little blond-haired boy laughing with two other boys. They were telling him to do it again. She watched as he popped a tiny gold nugget into his mouth. Seconds later a stream of yellow-green bubbles came floating out of his nose.

"Neville, is that kid blowing snot-bubbles?"

Neville laughed. "You've never had magical sweets, have you? Watch this." He popped what looked like a tiny red stick of dynamite into his mouth. Lindsay jumped backwards as jets of flame shot out of his ears.

"Did that hurt?" she asked.

"No, it doesn't actually feel good, but it doesn't hurt either."

"I'm not eating anything in here. Neville, we're supposed to grab a bite when we're done here. Is magical food weird too?"

"No, no, it's totally safe. As long as it isn't something Fred or George offers you, you'll be fine."

"Oh, that's such a relief. Thanks."

"Right, off to the Three Broomsticks," said Fred as he shoved the velvet pouch into Lindsay hand. Much to her surprise, it was more than half full. Fred and George were both carrying a large box under their arms.

"See you later, Neville," said Lindsay. "And don't eat too much of that stuff.

###

Lindsay thought the interior of the Three Broomsticks was quaint, and she very much liked the friendly bustling atmosphere. The twins introduced her to the very likeable Madam Rosemerta, who offered her some butterbeer.

"Does that have alcohol in it?" asked Lindsay.

"Just a very small amount," answered Rosemerta.

"I'll just have some tea then."

"As you like," said Rosemerta.

"What's the problem with alcohol?" asked George.

"It dulls the senses."

"Isn't that the point?" said Fred.

Lindsay smiled pleasantly. "For some I suppose, just not me. So are you going to show me what you bought?"

"I thought you'd never ask," said George as he plopped a large box on the table. To Lindsay's horror, they not only showed her all the different confections, but they demonstrated their effects as well. When Madame Rosemerta returned with their drinks, she grilled the twins about the amount of candy they had. She was sure they'd been dishonestly procured and was still a little suspicious even after Lindsay had vouched for Fred and George. They spent much more time at the Three Broomsticks than they had planned. The twins quickly learned that Lindsay was even more social than themselves. She met a number of students from the other three houses as well as some of the residents of Hogsmeade. Four men from the village bought drinks for her, which she graciously accepted but didn't drink. One of the men looked older than Dumbledore. Fred and George were thoroughly disgusted by him, but Lindsay didn't seem to mind. Her reaction to the old man was the same as her reaction to everyone else. She was friendly and chatty, but not encouraging of further advances.

A small crowd of people, both male and female, had formed around her. The old man was teaching her a drinking song, and it didn't take long for everyone to be singing it. Lindsay had a powerful voice and could be heard above everyone else. Normally the twins would have circulated more, but they felt that Lindsay needed bodyguards due to her naïve amiability, and had designated themselves for the job. They didn't like the way some of the male patrons were eyeing her, and they had forcibly moved two overly friendly Hufflepuff boys away from her. They decided it was time to leave when a burly rough-looking warlock began to get a little too familiar. He'd pulled a scratched and dented silver flask out of his pocket and was trying to get Lindsay to taste whatever was in it.

"No, thank you," said Lindsay. "It's very kind of you to share, but alcohol has a lot of empty calories and I'm watching my figure."

"Not to bother, I'll watch it for you," said the warlock and wrapped his arm around Lindsay's waist. She seemed entirely at ease with the man's forwardness, but kept her hand on his to prevent it from moving to anywhere other than her waist.

Fred whispered into George's ear. "We can take him."

"I think you might be too optimistic, Fred, but I'm game if you are."

"Sorry to spoil the fun," shouted Fred from directly behind Lindsay. "But we're late for a prior engagement." He grinned as he looked in the eyes of the burly warlock, but his bearing made it plain that he wasn't being sociable. The warlock was amused by the adolescent threat and laughed aloud.

Lindsay easily removed herself from the brawny man's arm. "Alright, gentlemen, let's keep it friendly." She placed a hand on Fred's arm. "Come along, Fred. We don't want to miss the fun." The twins backed away for several paces until they felt comfortable turning their backs on the warlock, who still appeared to be very amused by them. Lindsay showed no apprehension and simply walked away to collect their coats. The trio wrapped up for the cold and left.

"Right, we have one more stop," said Fred. "We need to go to Zonkos. We're out of dungbombs."

"I'm not sure I want to know what they are," said Lindsay.

"Dungbombs are the best," said George.

"They're not actual dung are they?"

"No, of course not," said George. "They just have the smell, but they do dirty your hands a bit."

"Although...that is a rather good idea," said Fred quietly with a quick look to George. The twinkles in their eyes made Lindsay uneasy.

There was a small alleyway between some of the buildings, and Lindsay noticed a dark hunched figure shuffling around some garbage bins. "I don't think I'm quite ready for a magical joke shop. Is it alright if I just wait here?"

The twins exchanged suspicious glances. "I suppose," said Fred slowly. "But stay right here, we don't want you to get lost."

"No problem."

"We won't be long," said George.

They looked back several times, and Lindsay had to wait for them to enter the shop before she could sneak away to talk to the vagrant in the alley. "Hello? Do you need help?" The figure turned out to be a man. He was so grimy that it was difficult to estimate his age. His clothes were tattered and covered in soot. He was extremely thin and bent almost in half. She thought that he would likely be close to her height if he was able to stand up straight. The smell of body-soil coming from him nearly took her breath away.

"Huh? Who's that?" The man's tone more than a little annoyed, and his voice sounded dark and gravelly.

"I'm nobody. I just thought you might need some help finding whatever it is you're looking for."

The man squinted at her. His blue eyes looked cloudy from cataracts. When he spoke again, his tone was much friendlier. "I was just looking for something to keep me warm. These old bones really feel the cold. It didn't bother me when I was young like you."

Lindsay looked back up the alley for the twins. She took everything out of the pockets of her knee-length, grey, wool coat and transferred it all to her trouser pockets. She left twenty galleons in the coat's front pocket, took it off, and offered it to the man. "This is very warm. You'll like it."

"I couldn't possibly," said the man.

"Please take it. I have another at home, besides the cold weather doesn't affect me at all." She held it for him as he slipped his arms into the sleeves. The odor coming from him was so overpowering that she had to turn her head to the side.

"That's right kind of you, young lady."

"Oh, it's nothing. Now you should get inside where it's warm. I'll ask my friends if there's somewhere we can take you. Oh, there they are." Lindsay heard the twins calling urgently for her. She turned to look back up the alley, and saw them skid to a stop where they'd left her only moments before. "I'm here!" shouted Lindsay, and the twins bolted down the alley after her.

"What are you doing in an alley?" asked Fred.

"And where's your coat?" asked George.

"I gave it to this gentleman..." Lindsay turned to introduce the twins, but the man was gone. "I swear to you there was an old man here."

"We can't leave you for a second," said Fred. "We'd better get back to Hogwarts before you freeze to death."

"You nearly made me drop the sweets," said George.


	5. Chapter 5

Lindsay was numb by the time they returned to the school. The twins had tried to cast a warming charm on her, but it didn't work. They were both mystified as they had no trouble casting the charm on each other. Lindsay was shivering uncontrollably as she passed by Professor McGonagall who, along with Mr. Filch, was counting the returning students.

"Where is your coat, Miss Gray?"

"I gave it to a beggar."

"You did what?"

"There are a lot of poor people in the world, Professor."

"There are a lot of foolish ones too, Miss Gray. Get inside and warm yourself. I'll be having a talk with you later."

Lindsay avoided the Gryffindor common room and took the staircase that lead directly to both hers and McGonagall's quarters. There was a huge furor in the common room as Fred and George began handing out sweets. After what she saw in Honeydukes, and what the twins showed her in the Three Broomsticks, Lindsay had no desire to witness what the kids would be willing to do to themselves. She wrapped herself in a blanket and had just sat down in front of the fire when Professor McGonagall entered. "Would you like a cup of tea, Professor?"

"No, thank you." Her tone was stern and her body posture matched. Lindsay braced herself for a tongue-lashing as McGonagall took a seat next to her. "I can't believe you just walked all the way from Hogsmeade without a coat. I'll be shocked if you don't end up with pneumonia. You could've been frostbitten. I expect that even a Muggle-trained physician would know about frostbite. Just what were you thinking, giving away your coat in the middle of January?"

"There was this poor old man in the alley. He was dressed in rags. I assume he's homeless--"

"Was he bent in half? Did he have cloudy blue eyes and smelled like a dung-heap?"

"You know him, Professor?"

"His name is Itzal Grace. He's a ne'er-do-well, and quite a shady character."

"Even people who make mistakes in life deserve a little charity," said Lindsay. "He's much older than me and the cold can do him more harm."

"Generosity is an admirable quality, Miss Gray, but gullibility is not. I assure you that the one person Itzal can safeguard is himself."

"I left twenty galleons in the coat pocket."

"Oh dear, he'll be drunk for a month. On second thought, I think I will have that cup of tea."

Lindsay rose and began bustling around her kitchenette. McGonagall watched her carefully, noting that she preferred to do everything manually despite the ability to use very simple magic. Lindsay piled some scones onto a plate and set it on a tray that held her tea set. "The twins escorted me to the kitchen. The house-elves are adorable and...enthusiastic. They gave me much more than I needed to fill the cabinets, but Ron Weasley ate most of it so I have to go back for a few things. That kid has an impressive appetite." Lindsay set the tray in front of McGonagall who picked up a scone. She looked at the tray and frowned slightly as she reached for a second scone.

"You said Fred and George Weasley helped you?"

"Yes, why?"

"Have a look at this scone."

It seemed innocent enough to Lindsay's eyes, except that it had a slightly purple-hued glittery look to it. "How weird, it looks a little shiny."

"Don't eat it," warned McGonagall. "Set it aside somewhere safe."

"Neville warned me too. What do the twins do, put laxatives in everything?"

"If only," said McGonagall as she examined the tea steaming in the teapot, the sugar bowl, and the milk sitting in the creamer. "Everything looks alright. You must be very careful. Inspect everything before you eat or drink it. If it looks unusual in any way get rid of it, or you could find yourself sneezing marbles or growing pink fur on your knees." Lindsay laughed at the thought. "You won't find it amusing if it happens to you; and if it does, take yourself to the hospital wing and Madame Pomfrey will take care of you."

"Can I ask you something, Professor?"

"Of course," said McGonagall as she stirred her tea. Her expression and tone of voice had warmed considerably.

"Some of the kids have been telling me horror stories about Professor Snape. I spent a few hours with him last night. He doesn't seem very sociable."

"Severus can be a bit...harsh, but he is a very competent teacher. As for his sociability, he manages to be civil with his colleagues. Otherwise, he's intensely private and has been since he was a schoolboy."

"You were one of his teachers?"

"I was. He was a very clever student, though a bit backward."

"So is there any truth to the rumors, or are the kids just trying to scare me?"

McGonagall's eyes narrowed a little and the firmness returned to her voice. She was unsure if Lindsay was trying to garner favor with her, or was simply asking out of genuine concern for her own wellbeing. Since the Weasley twins seemed to have taken an interest in her, Minerva assumed that it was likely the latter. "I don't care for gossip, and I'll not criticize a colleague, Miss Gray. Obey school rules and you'll not run afoul of Severus or any of your other teachers."

"Understood, ma'am. I have one more question. It's about Professor Lupin. He looked unwell when I met him--"

"Remus has a chronic health condition, but I'll not disclose the nature of his illness."

"And I wouldn't ask, Professor. It would be crass of me to do so. I was just concerned."

"That's very considerate of you, Miss Gray." McGonagall patted Lindsay's hand. Her expression softened and warmth returned to her voice. "Remus has been sickly since he was a boy. It's a delicate subject for him." She sipped her tea a few times before speaking again. "I neglected to tell you this morning that you are technically a guest of Hogwarts, not a student. As such, you may eat your meals at the High Table; however, it's not a strict rule and you may eat with the students if you prefer." She set down her teacup and rose. "I must be going; I have some papers to grade. Thank you for the tea."

"Anytime, Professor, my door is always open."

Lindsay had just finished washing up when Hermione entered. "I was just going to spend a few hours in the library before dinner. Would you like to join me?"

"Sure, I finished all of my textbooks before I came to school. I could use some new reading material."

"Great! I know exactly what books you need to get you further along in your classes."

"I haven't really read much of the school handbook yet. Is it really that important? I thought I might just wing it."

"Oh, of course it is," answered Hermione, looking as if the question was bordering on offensive. "Professor McGonagall is a stickler for the rules, and Professor Snape is...worse. You should read 'Hogwarts: A History' too. It's really fascinating. I'll tell you about it on the way to the library."

The library was very quiet, except for the sound of a few quills scraping on parchment. There were only a handful of students in there, and most of them looked harassed like they were working on last-minute projects. A gaunt, prim-looking, older woman was keeping watch from behind a great oak desk. The woman shushed Lindsay when she tried to introduce herself. Hermione apologized for Lindsay, and dragged her to an unoccupied table that was out of the librarian's line of sight.

"That's Madam Pince," whispered Hermione. "She's very strict about enforcing library rules. You must be quiet and don't ever mark any of the books. She hates that. You stay here while I fetch a few things."

Lindsay was mystified as she watched books rise up from the tables next to her and put themselves away. The books already on the shelves moved aside to let the new ones in. She was sure that a few of them on the shelves behind her were having a hushed conversation. She began to wonder if Hermione had gotten lost when she reappeared carrying an enormous stack of books. The stack was so high that her face was totally obscured, only her bushy hair could be seen sticking out on either side of the book stack.

"Let me help you." Lindsay took a little more than half of the books. It wasn't until Hermione plopped the rest of the stack onto the able that Lindsay realized there was another, even larger, stack floating along behind Hermione. "You don't expect to be getting through all of these today, do you?"

"Well, we do have a few hours. Here are some good ones on potions. Sometimes Professor Snape likes to ask advanced questions just to stump us. Of course, I always know the answers, but most of the students don't, which makes him assign extra homework."

Lindsay picked up a book and began flipping through it. Hermione thought she was skimming through it, but she continued at the same pace even after Hermione had opened her own book. Lindsay set the book aside and reached for another.

"Did you actually read that?" asked Hermione.

"Sure did."

"I thought I could read fast."

"It's a skill," said Lindsay. "Anyone can learn it. Stop reading word by word, and start looking at blocks of words instead. The most important part is to shut off your internal voice, the one that you use to sound out words in your mind. It takes some practice, but once you can do that you'll read much faster and retain the information." Speed-reading techniques can take anywhere from weeks to months to learn, but Hermione was doing reasonably well within the first hour. She was undoubtedly spurred on by a strong intellectually competitive streak.

Hermione had brought four books pertaining to Potions, and Lindsay read every one. She was certain that her next Potions lesson was going to be more unpleasant than the first, and she wanted to be well prepared. She really didn't understand the concept of magical properties associated with magical potions, and was presently working verbatim from the textbook Professor McGonagall had told her to buy. The supplemental reading that Hermione recommended had considerably broadened her understanding. She read one very thick text on Herbology, one on Charms, and one on Transfiguration before her mind became data-overwhelmed.

"You're not going to read the rest?" asked Hermione.

"Are you trying to give me a migraine?"

"Um...no, of course not, I just thought with an eidetic memory, you could read them all..."

"My learning process isn't unlimited. I have accurate recall, but it isn't always instantaneous. My mind is a bit like a library. Everything has to be catalogued and put in its proper place so I can find it when I need to. If I collect too much information at once, it all gets cluttered up and takes me forever to sort it out."

"That's interesting, I hadn't thought about it that way," said Hermione. "Perhaps you could ask me some questions from my notes, if you wouldn't mind?"

"I'd love to."


	6. Chapter 6

Lindsay chose to eat dinner at the High Table. She sat between Hagrid and Lupin, and enjoyed a pleasant three-way conversation with them. Hagrid was particularly excited about her first lesson with him, which would occur the following morning. It would become Lindsay's habit to eat dinner at the High Table, breakfast at the Gryffindor table, and lunch with whomever was first to catch her arm.

Lindsay found herself settling in fairly well, but not as quickly as she normally did. She felt oddly out of place here, a feeling she was definitely not accustomed to. She was instantly popular with the students, most of whom regarded her as something of a novelty. The professors were polite and patient for the most part, except for Snape, who was cold, aloof, and bordered on hostile. Lindsay found him to be rather arrogant with regard to the subject matter he was teaching. She disliked his habit of trying to making her look like a fool, something he hadn't yet managed due in small part to Lindsay's innate self-possession, and in greater part to Hermione's tutelage. Having had two previous years with him gave Hermione greater insight into his behavior and, so far, she'd been spot-on.

Flitwick and McGonagall were as frustrated with her lack of practical magical ability as Lindsay herself was. She suspected that the only thing that kept them from kicking her out of their classes entirely was her exceptional grasp of magical theory. Lindsay was very grateful for Hermione's assistance in this regard, without her help Lindsay would have felt like a complete dunce.

Lupin had an extraordinary amount of patience and was very supportive. They quickly developed an amicable relationship that sat somewhere in between respect for a teacher and affection for a friend. He was a little freer with her than the rest of students due to her age, but it was very clear that their relationship wouldn't stray beyond the ethical boundary of student and teacher. She called him Remus in private and Professor Lupin in front of students.

Sprout's and Lindsay's personalities were quite similar in that they were both friendly and good-natured. They got on quite well, and Sprout was more than satisfied with Lindsay's performance in her lessons. Lindsay was also quite fond of Neville, a pleasant and helpful boy who had an intuitive skill regarding plant care. Sprout trusted Neville enough to allow him to teach Lindsay basic Herbology in her stead, which freed up her time; however, Sprout always personally supervised the more complex or dangerous lessons.

Hagrid became an instant favorite of Lindsay's. She regarded him as a fond uncle and spent a great deal of her free time with him. Sometimes she would take her guitar with her, and she and Hagrid would teach songs to each other. What she lacked in instinctive ability with magical creatures, she made up for in her great fondness and compassion for them, and Hagrid was very pleased with her efforts. He was particularly impressed with how well most of the animals took to her. Hagrid's intuitive ability with simple creatures easily rivaled Neville's ability with plants. Lindsay was in awe of the control Hagrid had over the animals in his care.

Hagrid was a simple man of simple means, but one of great insight and kindness. A profoundly benevolent soul, he was honest, unpretentious, and loyal, all traits that Lindsay held in very high regard. Superficially they seemed an unlikely pair. Lindsay was refined, elegant, and appreciated the finer things in life, which she certainly had the means to enjoy. Hagrid was rough and earthy, and yet they had a great understanding of one another. They took to each other like old friends who had been parted for many years.

###

Lindsay rose at her usual hour, just before dawn. She dressed for a run as Hagrid had been kind enough to show her a safe route well away from the Dementors that were guarding the school's perimeter. She hadn't yet seen a Dementor and had no desire to. She purposely avoided looking in the directions where they were stationed. Professor McGonagall had told her they were there and what their function was, but had left the more explicit details of their natures up to Professor Lupin. He'd explained what they were, what function they performed outside of Hogwarts, and that the use of the Patronus charm was the best defense against them. Lindsay, however, was in no way ready to learn such advanced magic.

Her morning exercise routine was arduous and unswerving. Sickness was about the only thing that would interrupt her habit. Afterwards, she would shower and have breakfast. If she had time between lunch and dinner, she would look for an empty space to have dance practice. She preferred to do this alone so she could concentrate, but the students always seemed to find her. Her attempted practices always ended up in a large gathering, with some students watching, others joining in, and still others trying to learn the steps. Much of the appeal was the fact that Lindsay was permitted to play music outside of her rooms. Although she disliked the interruption of her daily routine, she still enjoyed the company and remained patient and jovial.

Lindsay typically joined Hagrid after breakfast and followed him around for a few hours, helping with his chores. She would often break for tea with him, if she wasn't called away to a lesson.

"I got a surprise fer yeh today," said Hagrid with a beaming smile. He hollered loudly and within moments a hooved creature appeared. He put his hand on the neck of a particularly large Thestral and walked him over to Lindsay. "Meet Tenebrus," he said proudly. He dropped a large lump of sugar in Lindsay's hand. She offered it to Tenebrus, who sniffed it warily before taking it from her. "There yeh go," said Hagrid. "He likes yeh. Yeh can pat 'im now."

"Oh, Hagrid, he's beautiful. I've never seen anything like him."

"Misun'erstood crea'ures, Thestrals are. People think they're bad 'cause o' how they look. They can be a bit bad tempered if mishandled, but so can any animal. Treat 'em right and they're as sweet a sugar."

They had a tea-break in Hagrid's hut. Dinner was only a couple of hours away. Hagrid thought Lindsay was too elegant a lady for rock cakes, despite her insistence that she liked them, which was a lie. Instead, he offered her some biscuits from a very colorful tin. They were perfectly sized for her, but they virtually disappeared between Hagrid's thumb and forefinger. He thought, because of their tiny size and ornate tin, that they were something a distinguished lady would eat when, in fact, they were simple tea biscuits.

Lindsay kept her hand over her huge mug of tea because bats were crawling around the ceiling beams and flying freely around the hut, dropping guano wherever they went. Hagrid had found the mother dead outside an old hollowed-out tree and reared her three offspring. It's very rare for a bat to have triplets. They were much smaller than average because of their number and would never have survived on their own. Hagrid was quite pleased with himself for having saved them. They were almost old enough to be released. Buckbeak lay sleeping peacefully on Hagrid's bed, and Fang was asleep in front of the fire.

"I really don't feel like I belong here, Hagrid. I don't have much magic, and I can't control what I do have," said Lindsay.

"Yeh come to the right place. There's no finer school than Hogwarts, and you'll not find a better headmaster than Albus Dumbledore. Great man, Dumbledore, he'll have yeh trained up in no time. He's the only wizard that You-Know-Who ever feared, and that's sayin' somethin'."

"Who's You-Know-Who?"

"Ain't yeh never heard o' him?"

"Everything here is new to me, Hagrid."

Hagrid lowered his voice as if he were afraid of being overheard. "Well, You-Know-Who was a dark wizard. Yeh know what that is, right?"

"Afraid not."

"A dark wizard practices dark magic, which is the worst kind o' magic there is. Nasty evil stuff, it is. You-Know-Who was 'bout as dark as they come. Murdered a lot o' people, he did. Used the Killin' Curse on 'em. Our Harry is the only person ever to survive the Killin' Curse."

"You mean Harry Potter?"

"The very same," answered Hagrid proudly.

"Oh, you're teasing me. You really had me going, Hagrid."

"I'm not makin' it up. It's all true, I swear it."

"Little Harry fought a dark wizard?"

"No, no, he didn't fight 'im. Yeh see Harry was jus' a little baby. You-Know-Who killed Harry's mum and dad—good people they were too—when he tried to kill Harry, the spell bounced off and hit You-Know-Who instead. That's how Harry got that scar on 'is head."

"That's horrible, poor Harry. He's one lucky kid to have survived something like that." Lindsay sipped her tea, mulling over the horrible tale Hagrid had just told her. "You said Harry was a baby, does he know what happened to his parents?"

"Sure he does. Everyone knows it, 'cept you."

"So is this Sirius Black character a dark wizard too?"

"Now there's somethin' Harry don't know 'bout. Sirius Black is the one that betrayed Harry's mum and dad to You-Know-Who. He's the reason they're dead and...he's Harry's godfather."

Lindsay sharply drew a breath. "Oh, that's horrible! Do you think he's come to finish off Harry?"

"More than likely," answered Hagrid.

"I was wondering why a criminal would be so interested in a school. It makes perfect sense now."

###

"Good evening, Professor Flitwick. So good to see you again."

"And you, Miss Gray. Have you been practicing the material?"

"I certainly have."

"Let's get straight to it then." Professor Flitwick spent twenty minutes trying to teach Lindsay how to float a feather off of his desk. She had the 'flick and swish' technique down pat, and she recited Wingardium Leviosa perfectly, yet the feather didn't move. They'd been practicing levitating simple items for several lessons and Lindsay was no further along. Flitwick was rapidly losing his patience.

"This is a first year lesson, Miss Gray! I've never had a student have so much difficulty with it!"

"I'm sorry, Professor. Can I try it a different way?"

"I'm willing to try anything at this point," snapped Flitwick.

Lindsay stashed her wand in her sleeve and put her hands on the desk where the stubborn feather lay. She focused her attention and a blue light appeared, encircling the feather. It rose from the table, hovered in the air for a moment, then settled back down to rest in its original spot. Flitwick was stunned.

"Remarkable...just remarkable...you managed with your hands, but not with a wand. I've never seen the like."

"I don't understand it, sir. Aren't wands supposed to help channel magic?"

"Not just channel it, but amplify it. If it's made correctly, that is. Wand woods have magical properties, as do their core materials. The correct combination of wood and core will bring out your fullest magical potential. I don't understand why this wand chose you only to refuse to cooperate with you."

"Chose me? I don't understand."

"The wand always chooses the wizard, or witch in this case. It's not like Ollivander not to explain that to you." Lindsay had no idea what he was talking about, and it showed plainly on her face. "May I ask where you purchased your wand?"

"I didn't, Professor Dumbledore gave me a spare."

"Well, that's the problem then!" said Flitwick excitedly.

"I still don't follow you, sir."

"Some wands are very loyal to their first owners and will refuse to bond with a new one."

"Are you telling me this thing is alive?"

"Not so much alive as quasi-sentient. How odd that Albus would do such a thing. He's a peculiar man in many ways, but this is bizarre even for him. I'll certainly be having a talk with him at the next staff meeting. This wand is holding you back, and we can't have that. Now tell me, what were you thinking when you made the feather float up?"

"I just imagined it floating."

"You didn't say the incantation in your mind?"

"No, sir."

"Remarkable."


	7. Chapter 7

Lindsay decided to spend some time in the common room before retiring. Although Professor Flitwick was very excited about the way she managed to float the feather, Lindsay was still frustrated by her inability to control her wand. She thought being around the chatty jovial Gryffindors would improve her mood. As she reached the top of the great marble staircase, she saw Neville pacing nervously in front of Sir Cadogan's portrait. His clothes and shoes were covered in earth. He'd clearly been working in the greenhouses. "What's up, Neville? It's almost curfew. You'll really get it if McGonagall catches you out here."

"I forgot the password."

"It's unicorn hair."

"Thanks, you're a life-saver."

Neville went up to his dormitory, while Lindsay sat in a chair next to the fire and watched the flames dance. She wasn't really interested in socializing, but she found the sounds of people talking and laughing around her relaxing. As the flickering flames lulled her, she began humming softly to herself.

"What's that you're singing?" asked Neville, who'd changed out of his dirt-covered clothes, and took a seat next to her.

"It's a lullaby. My mom sang it to me when I was little. Lullabies make me think of her." Neville appeared as though he wanted to say something, but turned his head away instead and stared at the fireplace. Lindsay could see that something had made him uncomfortable and thought it best to change the subject. She proceeded to tell him what had happened in her Charms lesson. "I didn't think to ask Flitwick if he could tell what the core was. Is there a way to tell?" Lindsay held up her wand, but Neville declined to take it.

"Hasn't anyone explained wand etiquette to you?"

"There's a protocol?" asked Lindsay.

"It's considered impolite to handle someone else's wand. It's acceptable in an emergency or among family members, but never done in polite company."

"Oh, I had no idea. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to be rude."

"No need to apologize. Most people form a strong bond with their wands and don't like to use someone else's. You should ask Dumbledore what yours is made from."

"Neville, there's something I wanted to ask you. There's a jar of powder on top of my fireplace mantel..."

"It's Floo powder."

"Does it give people the Flu?"

"No," laughed Neville. "It's used for travel or to talk to other people on the Floo network...You still don't know what I'm talking about?"

"Just tell me if it's something Fred and George put there."

"It should look silvery. If it looks different, then Fred and George swapped it for one of their pranks. I'll go and have a look at it, if you like?"

"Would you? I'd feel much better if you did. It's making me paranoid; I keep waiting for it to explode or something." On the way to Lindsay's rooms, they bumped into a very angry and very purple Ron Weasley. "What did you do to yourself, Ron? You look like a rhinestone grape."

"ME?" he shouted. "WHAT DID I DO?" Neville cringed and moved as far out of Ron's sight as he could.

"You didn't eat that shiny scone, did you?" said Lindsay.

"Well, I was hungry so I popped in for a bite. You weren't there, but I didn't think you'd mind. I saw that scone sitting on the table and...."

"It was a gift from Fred and George. I meant to throw it away, but I got sidetracked. Sorry, Ron, I should've told you about it."

"THOSE GITS!" shouted Ron, a new wave of rage flowing over him. His cheeks and ears were a much darker shade of purple than the rest of him. He stomped away toward the common room, fists balled at his sides. Seconds later, a roar of laughter was heard followed by angry shouting from Ron.

Lindsay went to the kitchenette while Neville inspected the Floo powder. "It looks fine to me," he said.

"You have no idea what a relief that is, especially after seeing Ron. Would you like to stay for a bit? We can have a nice chat." She looked through every cabinet and turned to Neville. "It looks like Ron cleaned me out. I'll just nip down to the kitchens, if you don't mind waiting. I'll only be a few minutes."

"Oh, I don't want you to get in trouble on my account," said Neville.

"I won't get in trouble. I don't have a curfew, the teachers can't give me detention, and I can only be expelled by the Headmaster. Make yourself at home, I won't be long."

Neville saw a sketchbook lying open on Lindsay's desk and began to flip through it. He saw sketches of Fred and George on broomsticks, Lupin leaning back in a chair reading a book, Hagrid patting a Thestral, Buckbeak on Hagrid's bed, Fang sprawled in front of a fire, Hermione sitting on a bench in the sun with an open book on her lap, Sprout smiling with a smudge of earth on her nose, and himself standing in a water garden, pulling weeds. Neville put the drawings down when he reached a page with some incomplete sketches of Snape.

When Lindsay returned, her arms were laden with snacks of every kind. "The house-elves are so gracious," she said.

"I was looking at your sketches. They're really good."

"Thank you, glad you like them. I'm having some trouble capturing Professor Snape, though. I haven't found his moment yet." Neville looked blankly at her from across the table. "Everyone has a special moment when their true selves shine out. It's when they're happiest and most comfortable, like Hagrid with his animals and you with your plants." Neville had no desire to discuss Professor Snape so close to bedtime and so changed the subject to art in general, a topic that Lindsay had a great passion for. They had tea and a few sandwiches and chatted away into the night.


	8. Chapter 8

"Are you sure you should be hiking out here, Remus? You still look awfully pale," said Lindsay. She had her arm hooked through his, which was a habit of hers whenever she walked alongside someone--except for Hagrid because of his great height and Flitwick because of his lack of height. Remus had a large fish-tank full of water floating along beside him. They were in search of another Grindylow to use in one of his classes.

"I'm fine, really. The fresh air is good for me. There's a large pool up ahead. We should find a Grindylow in there." A few more yards of trudging through mud and underbrush led them to a large marshy pool fed by an underground spring that stemmed from the Black Lake. The trees here were tall and old. Both the trees and the water's black surface were deathly still. The sunlight was sparse, making it seem quite eerie. Remus set the tank down on the muddy earth, and stopped to catch his breath. Lindsay had read enough of Hermione's recommended textbooks to know not to wander too closely to the water's edge. She skirted the pool looking for anything unusual.

"There's a swirl of water there, Remus."

"Good eyes, Lin." Remus drew his wand and mumbled something under his breath. An angry Grindylow emerged from the water kicking and biting at the air. He floated it through the air and plopped it into the tank. Lindsay crouched down to get a better look at it. The Grindylow flung itself against the tank's glass, trying to grab hold of her.

"You're not gonna hurt it are you, Remus?"

"You're worried about the welfare of a dark creature that would kill you if it had the chance?"

"But it hasn't killed me."

He smiled and shook his head. "I won't hurt it. I'll put it right back here when I'm done with it."

"Thank you."

A sudden chilled breeze blew between the trees making them both shiver. Remus knew exactly what was causing it, but waited to see Lindsay's reaction. The temperature dropped drastically and Lindsay was able to see her breath. "What's going on?" Remus didn't answer. Lindsay's eyes scanned the area and settled on a tall, dark, shrouded figure floating swiftly toward her. "What the hell is that?"

Remus wasn't sure if she'd be able to see Dementors, but it was obvious by her reaction that she could. He spoke loudly and sternly. "Sirius Black is not with us. We're here on school business. Move away." Lindsay moved closer to him, gripping his shoulder. A second Dementor appeared next to the first. "Alright then," said Remus. He pointed his wand at them and said, "Expecto Patronum". A silvery jet of light shot out of his wand and formed into a camel*, which threw the Dementors backwards. They floated away and mingled with the shadows. He holstered his wand and pulled a bar of chocolate out of his pocket. He broke a piece off and handed it to Lindsay, then broke another for himself. "Eat this. Chocolate helps relieve the effects."

"Thank you, but I don't need an excuse to eat chocolate," said Lindsay as she popped the chocolate into her mouth without hesitation. A warm relaxed sensation quickly enveloped her. "Oh, that's much better. Can we get out of here now?"

They left with the tank in tow. Remus' step was a little quicker on the way back, and Lindsay paid much greater attention to her surroundings. They set up the tank in Remus' office. She declined a cup of tea, and he made one for himself. He sat heavily in his chair and pointed to a large battered trunk on the floor. "I thought we'd try something a little different this time."

"I doubt the outcome will be much different than usual, but I'll try. What's in the trunk?"

"A boggart."

"Oh, great...."

"You just need a little confidence...."

"I need more than that, and you know it."

Remus smiled and set his teacup down. "We've discussed this. You know what to do. Draw your wand and concentrate. Tell me when you're ready, and I'll open the chest."

"Hit me, Remus."

He flipped open the chest and stepped away. The boggart emerged from the chest looking like a beautiful yet surreal caricature of Lindsay. It had a look of menace about it that made Remus shiver. He looked to Lindsay who was backing away, her eyes wide with fear, "Wand up, Lindsay, wand up." She continued to back away, her wand at her side. The boggart grew more confident and swelled in size as it approached her. "Riddikulus--say it, Lin!" shouted Remus.

He moved across the room with the intent of standing in front of her, his wand already drawn, when the most peculiar thing happened. Lindsay stopped backing away. Her eyes focused on the boggart and a determined expression spread over her features. The boggart reached out and grabbed her arm. A blue light flashed from the contact point, and the boggart flew into pieces; its parts nothing more than smoky remnants that disintegrated into the air.

"Well done!" shouted Remus, "A bit unorthodox, but certainly effective." He thought Lindsay would be happy with herself, but she appeared even more apprehensive than before.

"Did I kill it?"

"Boggarts are a type of shape-shifting spirit. You can't kill them, only dispel them."

"I don't like to hurt things, Remus. I prefer to find another way if I can."

He was truly baffled by her reaction, but tried, nonetheless, to be supportive. "I understand, but sometimes it's necessary to be hurtful. It would be foolish to risk your own life to protect a creature that intends to harm you. Well, I think you've had enough for one day...and I have papers to grade."

###

"The girl needs a new wand Albus," stated Flitwick. "She performs poorly enough without having to use an uncooperative wand."

"I'm not convinced that a new wand will be of much use," said McGonagall. "She hasn't managed to transfigure a single thing, not even a button. I'm fond of her, Albus. She's very likeable, but likeability doesn't mean she belongs at Hogwarts."

"I find her to be an excellent student, quite clever with an engaging personality. She's pleasant and cooperative, and seems to have developed a friendship with Neville Longbottom," said Sprout. Snape snorted at the mention of Longbottom's name. Sprout shot him a disapproving look, to which he raised an eyebrow in answer.

"That seems to be a consistent problem with the girl. She performs abysmally in practical lessons, but excels in magical theory and in subjects that don't require as much magical ability," said Flitwick. He took a deep breath before continuing. "I hate to say this, Albus, but I don't think the girl belongs here. She's impressively clever, but she's far too lacking in magical skills. She's a virtual squib."

Dumbledore looked pensive. His eyes shimmered as they moved from one set of eyes to the next. "How is she doing in Potions?"

"The girl performs adequately, Headmaster."

"High praise indeed, Severus," said Dumbledore pleasantly, which made Snape's mouth twist into a sneer. "Hagrid, your thoughts?"

"She's right good wi' animals, a fast learner, and a hard worker," answered Hagrid. Dumbledore nodded and turned his attention to Lupin.

"You've been very quiet, Remus. What are your thoughts?"

"I have to agree that she's highly intelligent, and I believe there's more to her than meets the eye. It's clear that she has some amount of magic, but why she's having so much difficulty controlling it is a mystery. She's evidently not a squib or she wouldn't have been able to float that feather..."

"That was very strange," said Flitwick. "She put her hands on the desk to do it, and she didn't recite the spell. I don't know what to make of it."

"Her magic is primitive," said Dumbledore. "She relies heavily on tactility. She seems to be able to affect objects simply by using willpower instead of incantations..."

"That seems more like advanced magic rather than primitive," said Snape.

"In a different context, it would be," replied Dumbledore. "She was able to manipulate the feather because it was in contact with the desk, which her hands were also touching. Once the contact was broken, she was unable to further affect the feather."

"So how do we proceed?" asked McGonagall.

"Pomona, Hagrid, and Severus, continue with your lessons. Minerva, Filius, and Remus, I'd like you to focus entirely on theory. I'll take over her practical lessons myself."

"Best of luck to you, Albus, but I think you're wasting your time," said Flitwick as he rose to leave.

Flitwick's comment annoyed Hagrid. "'Course he's not wastin' 'is time! Lindsay's dead clever! Maybe yer jus' not teachin' her right!"

"There's more to magic than wand-waving, Filius," said Sprout tersely. McGonagall chose not to comment, but the expression on her face made it clear that she agreed with Flitwick. All of the teachers filed out of the Headmaster's office except for Lupin.

"What is it that you wanted to speak to me about, Remus?"

"I had Lindsay try a boggart today. I didn't think she'd be able to do anything with it, but thought I'd try her anyway. She panicked at first and backed away from it, as I expected her to, but then she stopped...." His voice trailed away as though he were trying to organize his thoughts.

"And...," urged Dumbledore.

"She didn't raise her wand nor did she speak. The boggart reached out to touch her. I saw a blue light emanate from Lindsay's body, and the boggart burst into pieces. It was astonishing."

Dumbledore frowned and began to pace. "I'm as perplexed as you are, Remus. I'll need to ponder this. And I'd like you to keep that piece of information to yourself."

"Yes, of course...there is one more thing. The boggart took the shape of Lindsay herself." The revelation that was so shocking when Remus witnessed it didn't faze Dumblebore at all. It was almost as if he'd expected it. He nodded and asked Remus to keep him informed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Patronus reference can be found here: http://www.scottish-wedding-dreams.com/heraldic-symbols.html#B%20~%20Heraldry%20Symbols


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione Granger stopped in Lindsay's rooms on her way to the library. Lindsay wasn't there and Hermione assumed she was with Hagrid. She would apparently be going to the library alone. Hermione pondered for a moment then decided to look for Lindsay. Her huge work load was getting to her, and she really needed someone who could quickly grasp the subject matter without asking her stupid questions like Ron and Harry do. If she could get Lindsay to take some notes for her, she'd have a little extra time to do some research to help Hagrid with Buckbeak's appeals.

She headed for the lawn with the intent of going down to Hagrid's hut, but she didn't have to. Lindsay was on the lawn, just outside the castle doors, with a group of first years who were trying to teach her some simple spells. They took turns demonstrating how they were able to do them. Lindsay, of course, wasn't able to anything, which made the students roar with laughter. One of them even had the audacity to take Lindsay's hand while it gripped her wand and swish it for her. Hermione thought they were being awfully rude, but Lindsay laughed along with them.

Then an odd sight caught Hermione's attention, a thin dark figure creeping around one of the doors. It was Professor Snape. Hermione assumed he was trying to think of a reason to give everyone detention. Raucous laughter was usually excuse enough for him to split everyone up, but he didn't do anything. He just watched. Then Hermione took notice of the intensity with which he watched Lindsay; he was looking directly at her and following her with his eyes. Hermione cringed. Snape turned suddenly and caught Hermione observing him. "Is there a problem, Miss Granger?"

Hermione could feel heat rising to her face. "Uh...uh...no, sir...I...I was just...." Snape didn't wait for her to finish her stammering. He turned on his heel and stalked away, a flurry of billowing black. Hermione wasted no time in getting Lindsay's attention. She walked confidently through the throng of first years. "Lindsay, might I have a moment?"

"Sure, Hermione, is something wrong?"

"No, I just wanted to know if you could spare some time to help me study."

"Oh, yeah, I've got a few hours." The first years began to groan and complain. "Sorry, guys, but duty calls. We can try again later." The first years began to mill around looking for something entertaining to do, while Lindsay followed Hermione and her hugely overstuffed schoolbag to the library. "I think you might be overworking yourself, Hermione. Maybe you should think about taking a break."

"I don't need a break," snapped Hermione. "I'm perfectly fine. It's...it's just that I have something I need to do for Hagrid...."

"Okay, so what do you want me to do?"

Hermione dumped a huge textbook on runes in front of Lindsay. "Since you can draw, I thought you could take some notes for me and accurately draw the corresponding runes with them. I need to get a supplemental book for you too." Lindsay thumbed quickly through both books before taking up Hermione's extra quill and writing very detailed notes along with the requested drawings. She filled four rolls of parchment and handed them to Hermione, who muttered a thank you and stuffed them in her bag without lifting her eyes.

Hermione looked completely frazzled as she poured over some legal books, presumably for Hagrid and Buckbeak. Hagrid told Lindsay what had happened between Buckbeak and Draco Malfoy and what the likely outcome would be. She had virtually begged Hagrid to let her help, but he insisted that there was nothing she could do. Apparently the Malfoy family had a great deal of influence in powerful circles. Obviously the magical community isn't so different from the Muggle world after all, thought Lindsay.

###

Lindsay and Remus entered the Great Hall for lunch with Hagrid behind them. They sat together, as they often did, but with Remus in the middle where Lindsay typically sat. An empty chair sat between her and Flitwick. Then, in the Great Hall's entrance, appeared a woman in glittering violet robes and a heap of sparkling scarves. Her many beads and bracelets chinked and rattled as she made her way to the High Table. The Headmaster greeted her warmly, but everyone else seemed to be annoyed by her presence.

The woman stopped next to Lindsay, who held out her hand and said, "You must be Professor Trelawney. Very nice to meet you..."

"I received the most dire forewarning, my dear," said Trelawney as she took Lindsay's hand and sat. "I felt compelled to impart it to you." She began to study Lindsay's palm very closely. Lindsay sat silently watching the strange shiny woman examining her hand. Loud laughter erupted from the Gryffindor table and Lindsay looked to see Fred and George pounding their fists on the table and laughing so hard that tears were pouring down their cheeks. Lindsay began to feel very nervous.

"I was communing with the Fates when they impressed a most urgent message upon me." Lindsay looked to Hagrid, who had suddenly developed a great interest in his peas. She looked past Trelawney to Flitwick, who had turned in his chair, his back facing her, and was conversing with McGonagall, who was carefully avoiding Lindsay's eyes. "I was told to seek a new face, and I knew instantly that it must be you as I'd never seen you before." Trelawney took hold of Lindsay's other hand and examined it. Her voice became grave. "You are marked, my dear."

"Marked?" repeated Lindsay, looking at her hands. Remus snorted softly and his shoulders twitched as he tried to hide his laughter. He leaned over his plate; his face was slightly turned and shielded by his hand.

"I'm afraid that only a person gifted with The Sight can see the mark."

"The sight?" repeated Lindsay softly.

Trelawney nodded. "There are a great many things that the average person is blind to." Trelawney's hand swept the air as though there was something there that only she could see. "Normally I prefer to dine alone, and I rarely descend from my tower. I find the encumbrance of magical persons disrupts my Inner Eye...."

"Inner Eye?" repeated Lindsay, more to herself than to Trelawney.

"...but I feel a responsibility to those untalented, such as yourself, to offer warning when danger might appear. I foresee a wicked event in your near future. Possibly this Friday, but I sense more strongly that it should be Thursday night."

"So," began Lindsay, "what will this wicked event be?"

"I dare not say. The details are too gruesome. I advise you to try and enjoy the time you have left." She looked at Lindsay with great pity in her eyes, which were magnified to an abnormally large size by the thick lenses of her glasses. "Pity, you seemed like a charming girl."

"Well...um...thanks for the heads up," said Lindsay, unable to think of anything else to say.

"Ones not possessed of the Inner Eye can walk blindly into danger if gifted persons like myself don't offer warnings in a timely fashion." Trelawney seemed quite pleased with herself, which only served to make Lindsay more uncomfortable.

"In the likely event that I don't see you again...um...it was very nice meeting you." Trelawney smiled and turned back to her lunch. Lindsay elbowed Remus, which made him laugh harder. He finished his lunch quickly and left her to fend for herself. She chatted with Trelawney for politeness sake, but finished her lunch more quickly than usual and excused herself. The Weasley twins managed to catch her as she was leaving the Great Hall. She was still looking a bit unsettled.

"So when's the sad day?" said Fred.

"Possibly this Friday," answered Lindsay, "but most likely Thursday night. That woman scares the pants off me."

"Don't worry, we'll help you plan the funeral," offered George, placing a reassuring arm across Lindsay's shoulders.

###

Lindsay had been invited to watch Slytherin's Quidditch practice. Remus saw her heading to the Quidditch pitch surrounded by some sixth and seventh year boys, and decided to invite himself. The boys were all talking over one another to get her attention. "Alright gentlemen," said Remus. "Give the lady some breathing room." The boys moved to the row of seats below them and Remus sat down next to Lindsay. Moments later, the boys all rose at once, looking quite nervous, and quickly left their seats.

"I'd like to thank you for laughing behind your hand when professor Trelawney was predicting my unfortunate demise, Remus. Do you know how hard it was to keep a straight face?"

"Sorry about that."

"No, you're not."

"Well, really, how could I be?"

"Remus, is it?" came the low silky voice of Severus Snape. He took a seat on Lindsay's other side.

"Professor Snape, so good to see you," said Lindsay wearing her usual warm welcoming smile.

"You two have become quite...intimate," said Snape, an unpleasantly suspicious expression upon his face.

"Yes, we have," said Lindsay cheerfully. "Would you like to join us? We could make it a happy little three-way." Snape's face reddened and his eyes grew wide. Remus snorted while trying in vain to hide his laughter. Snape blinked at her, unable to respond. "Nice job getting rid of the boys, Professor." (They were presently sprinting back to the castle.) "Look at them go. They're nice kids, but it's good to get a break from them once in a while. Oh, and good going dispelling that crowd last Tuesday. Did you see that, Remus?"

"No, I didn't."

"There was a huge crowd of kids choking the second floor hallway. Then, all of a sudden, the center of the crowd parted way and Professor Snape walked straight down the middle of it. It was like Moses and the Parting of the Red Sea. It was hilarious." She turned to Snape, gently bumping her shoulder into his, and continued on another topic. "Remus has been trying to explain Quidditch to me. I usually like sports, but I don't think I'd care to play this one. The broomsticks alone are enough to put me off. Do you ride, Professor...a broomstick, I mean?"

"Most witches and wizards do," answered Snape brusquely, still red-faced. His arms were folded across his chest, and he looked unsure of himself. They watched most of the practice with both Snape and Lupin offering explanations of the goings on. Lindsay found the speed of the sport to be dizzying. There was so much going on at once that it was difficult to follow. Snape was the first leave, and did so without offering a farewell.

"Well done, Lindsay. Severus isn't often at a loss for words," said Remus as soon as Snape was out of earshot.

"I didn't like his insinuation, Remus. That was a very rude thing to say."

"Rudeness is a specialty of his."


	10. Chapter 10

Lindsay had a lesson with Snape after dinner, and she wasn't looking forward to it at all. She was less bothered by his surliness than by the silence during his lessons. He didn't talk with her at all other than to give instructions. This lesson would require the use of entirely fresh herbs, which were lying unlabeled in a jumbled heap on the worktable.

"You won't need your textbook," said Snape "The instructions are on the board." He said nothing else as he sat at his desk. He looked at her with a peculiar mix of lust and loathing. Her back was to him, but she knew exactly what he was doing. He did the same thing every lesson. Sometimes he'd sit at his desk and watch her, and sometimes he'd pace around her. It didn't bother her that he did that. She wasn't afraid of him; she just wished he'd talk to her.

She looked at the board for a moment then set about separating the herbs. Two of them weren't needed for this potion so she set them aside. This potion wasn't in her textbook, but she'd read about it in one of the books Hermione had given her and was able to spot some deliberate mistakes in the instructions. Snape rose from his desk to stand in front of her, a frown knitted between his brows. She had only looked at the board once and was doing everything correctly. Lindsay saw his frown and assumed he was wondering how she managed to cut up the herbs so quickly. She could stand the silence no longer and began to prattle. "I've been cooking for myself for some time now. But I wasn't very good at first so I took some cooking lessons. It's a great way to meet people. I never would've thought it would help so much with cutting these herbs."

He raised his eyes to hers; a particularly sour expression had crept into his features. "Is there a reason why you're telling me this, Miss Gray?"

"You just looked like you were wondering how I managed to cut this stuff so fast, so I thought I'd explain."

"How very thoughtful of you," said Snape, his eyes glittering as they stared into hers. "I'm not interested in your cutting skills--impressive as they are. Truth be told, I'm puzzled that you never read your textbook while in class, nor have you looked at the board more than once."

"I don't need to. I have an eidetic memory."

"Thank you for that revelation. Now, if you would kindly stop talking."

Lindsay went back to work and did as Snape had asked. He went back to his desk and continued his disturbing vigil. The silence annoyed her, but instead of talking, she began to sing softly.

"Miss Gray, did I not just tell you to stop that?"

"No, Professor," said Lindsay as pleasantly as usual. "You told me to stop talking. You didn't say anything about singing."

"Let me amend my earlier statement then. Please refrain from making any vocal utterances."

"Do you have a headache, Professor?"

"Not yet, but I'll no doubt have one shortly."

"You won't convince me that my singing will be the cause of it. I've had years of vocal training and multiple offers to sing professionally in operas houses."

"I never cared much for operatic singing."

"What type of music do you like? I can mimic other styles." Lindsay thought she'd finally broken the ice and had started a conversation with him.

"Can you mimic the sound of silence?" Snape thought she'd be offended or annoyed, but she laughed pleasantly. She appeared to be genuinely amused, but part of him suspected she was mocking him. He abruptly rose from his desk and told her to leave.

"But I'm only half finished," said Lindsay, confused by the sudden rise in his temper.

"I said, leave."

Lindsay grabbed her bag and left the potions classroom. She must've done something to offend him, but she wasn't sure what. She decided she'd talk it out with him after he'd calmed down a bit. She bumped into Filch on the way back to her rooms. "Hi, Mr. Filch. How are you?"

"Well enough," he answered. He eyed her for moment, shifting his weight between his feet. He cleared his throat before continuing. "You wouldn't happen to have a little free time, would you?"

"I certainly would, sir."

"I have a hot kettle waiting in my office if you're interested."

###

"She's a very handsome cat, Mr. Filch," said Lindsay as she patted Mrs. Norris, who was sprawled on Filch's desk like a Queen. Lindsay had taken notice of the shiny, well-kept manacles hanging on the wall, but declined to begin a conversation regarding them. Filch was a few feet away making tea. He offered a cup to Lindsay and sat down next to her with his own hot tea cup in his hand. Filch's expression warmed immediately. He patted Mrs. Norris affectionately. "Did you hear that, my sweet? Mrs. Norris and I go back a ways. I got a picture album of her. Maybe you'd like to see it?"

"Absolutely, I love pictures." Filch pulled a thick photo album out of his desk drawer and handed it to Lindsay, who immediately began happily looking through it.

"So, what do you think of Hogwarts?" asked Filch.

"It's immense," answered Lindsay, "and beautiful."

Filch sat up a little straighter and smugly announced that he was the school's sole caretaker.

"Really?" said Lindsay, who deliberately sounded very impressed. "That's an enormous task for one person. I thought there'd be an army of people to look after this place."

"Nope," said Filch proudly, "Just me and Mrs. Norris."

"There's something special about historical buildings, don't you agree? They have a kind of...presence. Can I confide in you, Mr. Filch?"

Filch's eyes glistened darkly and a wicked grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, "Certainly."

"Professor Dumbledore seems convinced that I belong here, but I'm not so sure. I'm just hopeless, you know. I can't seem to manage the simplest spells, and it hasn't been from lack of trying. I think I might be a squib."

"There are worse things to be," snapped Filch.

"Yes, you're right," agreed Lindsay.

Filch studied her, but didn't respond. Instead, he chose to focus on the photographs in her hand. "Let me just show you this one, it's one of my favorites," he said as he flipped a couple of pages.

"Oh, that's just precious," said Lindsay as she looked at Mrs. Norris' kitten pictures. Moving photographs still fascinated her even though she saw them daily in the newspaper.

"She was just eight-weeks-old when I snapped that one," said Filch with great pride. "And here she is with her first scratching post." Mrs. Norris abruptly rose and strode out of his office at a rapid pace. "What is it, my lovely?" said Filch as he rose to follow her with Lindsay in tow.

###

Harry and Ron had thrown on Harry's invisibility cloak and headed to the kitchens. Ron was starving and the twins were currently occupying Lindsay's rooms and wouldn't let them in. "I really wish Lupin hadn't taken that map away," said Ron. "I'd hate for Snape or Filch to catch us before we make it to the kitchens."

Ron was so intent on looking around for Snape that he wasn't watching where he placed his feet. "Ow," said Harry. "Watch it, Ron. You nearly tripped--" Ron stepped on Harry's shoelace. Harry fell forward and out of the protection of the cloak just as Filch caught up with Mrs. Norris.

"You!" shouted Filch. "You're always up to no good--."

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry," blurted Lindsay. "It's my fault, Mr. Filch. Harry was going to help me with some wand techniques. He must've thought I'd gotten lost again and came to get me." Harry nodded his head vigorously. "So sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to get you in trouble."

Filch looked a little crestfallen. "I suppose I could let him off this one time." He looked at Harry with profound loathing in his eyes, "But only this once."

Lindsay kissed Filch's cheek and he blushed. Harry cringed, as did Ron from under the invisibility cloak. "Thank you, Mr. Filch. I'd be wracked with guilt if Harry got into trouble because of me."

"Right...uh...thanks a lot," said Harry. Filch smiled at Lindsay and scowled at Harry.

"We should get back to the common room," said Lindsay. "Goodnight, Mr. Filch." She leaned down to pet Mrs. Norris. "Goodnight, pretty girl." Filch strode off to his office, beaming proudly at his cat.

Harry whispered a thank you, and Lindsay waited until Filch was out of earshot before speaking again. "Anytime, Harry, but what are you doing wandering around? You'll be in a lot of trouble if you get caught after curfew."

"Ron's hungry, so we thought we'd grab something from the kitchens."

"We?" said Lindsay, looking around and seeing no one else there.

"Take off the cloak, Ron," said Harry. Lindsay started when he seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"It's an invisibility cloak," explained Ron. "It makes anyone who wears it invisible."

Lindsay shook her head in disbelief. "You know what? The less I know the better, just be careful not cross Professor Snape tonight. He's in a right foul mood."

"When isn't he?" said Harry as he and Ron disappeared again under the cloak.

Lindsay began to walk away, but stopped in mid-stride and turned back to them. "Harry?"

"Yeah," answered Harry, popping his head out from underneath the cloak.

"You and Ron have your wands, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"No reason," responded Lindsay. "Just...um...be careful."

"Okay." Harry and Ron watched her walk away before speaking. "That was a weird thing to ask."

"Maybe she's afraid the Git will hex us." Ron's stomach gave a loud rumble.

"We better get moving. I don't trust Filch. He probably went to tell Snape."

"We're alright, Harry. We've got the cloak," answered Ron.

"Which will do us no good if Snape hears your stomach growling."

###

Lindsay took the staircase that led directly to her rooms, bypassing the Gryffindor common room, with the intention of having a long hot bath. The entrance to this hallway was guarded by a knight in full armor. Professor McGonagall would tap him with her wand to get him to move, but Lindsay only had to touch him and he'd move aside for her. She detected a rotten odor as soon as she entered the hallway to her rooms. Black smoke was billowing up from under her door and wafted along the ceiling. She felt the door for heat before opening it, and saw the twins sitting at her kitchen table drinking tea and eating crisps. Half their faces were blackened, their hair was charred and stood on end, and their clothes were equally scorched except on opposite sides. The fireplace was a blackened smoldering heap as was the furniture that sat in front of it.

"Late night with Professor Snog...I mean Snape?" asked Fred.

"What is that smell?" asked Lindsay, deliberately ignoring Fred.

"Have a look in your bedroom," said George.

Lindsay opened the door and gagged, pulling her shirt over her nose. "It looks like a dinosaur pinched a loaf on my bed."

"The Weasley version of a dungbomb," said Fred with great pride. "It's a prototype and a bit bigger than we'd intended."

"No kidding."

"It gave off a lot more methane than we'd intended too. That's how the fireplace blew up," said George.

"You were standing in front of it, I take it?" asked Lindsay, examining the scorch marks on their clothes.

"Yeah, at first we thought the bomb was a dud. I turned around to blame George..." began Fred.

"...then...BOOM...the fireplace exploded," finished George.

"This is so bizarrely funny...and really disgusting," laughed Lindsay. "But you have to get rid of it."

"It was supposed to dissolve within thirty seconds," said George.

"That was half an hour ago," said Fred.

"You've been in here for half an hour with that smell?"

"You get used to it," answered George.

"How do we get rid of it?"

"We don't know," said the twins.

"How am I supposed to sleep in here with a giant turd on my bed?"

"It's only the one," said Fred.

"Where's Hermione?"

They wouldn't have need of Hermione as Professor Dumbledore walked in. The grins on the twins' faces vanished immediately. "Headmaster," they said in unison, "what a pleasant surprise."

He looked silently around the room, his eyes twinkling merrily and a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"We've a slight mishap, sir," said Lindsay.

"Yes, I can see that. Why don't I just help you put everything right then?" With a causal wave of Dumbledore's hand, the rubble that was once the fireplace rose from the floor and reformed into a mantel. The broken furniture stood up and the scorched upholstery re-grew to pristine condition. The only thing left was the dinosaur turd on Lindsay's bed. "Might I ask what's causing that sickening odor?"

"It's in my bedroom here, sir."

"Oh, my, that is quite disgusting, isn't it?" One silent wave and the bed was clean again.

Lindsay drew in a deep satisfying breath. "Headmaster, I can't thank you enough."

"Not at all," said Dumbledore cheerily. "Nice to see you, boys, but if you wouldn't mind I'd like to have a word with...." The twins sprinted to the door, banging shoulders when they reached it. There was slight scuffle as they fought over who would get out first.

"Sorry about the mess," said Lindsay once Fred and George were gone. "It was a prototype of their version of a dungbomb. It made the fireplace explode. They didn't do that on purpose."

Dumbledore put his hand up. "Not to worry, Fred and George aren't in any trouble. I made a few mistakes myself when I was young. Still do from time to time." Lindsay motioned for him to have a seat at the table. She cleared away the tea cups and crisp bags that the twins had left and offered him some tea. He sat and requested that she to do the same. Lindsay was baffled, but did as Dumbledore requested. He waved his hand and the tray that held tea cups and the still hot teapot floated over to the table.

"Minerva has no doubt told you that I'll be taking over your practical lessons."

"Yes, sir, she did," answered Lindsay, her face and posture already showing signs of nervousness.

"This is your first lesson." Lindsay reached down for her wand, which she often kept in a side pocket of her work boots.

"You won't need that," said Dumbledore. "Relax and place your hands on the table. I want you to make tea without touching anything but the table. I wonder if you wouldn't mind playing your violin for me when we're finished? I'd love to hear some Mozart."

"It would be my pleasure, sir," beamed Lindsay. "I adore Mozart."


	11. Chapter 11

"I can't believe you get along with Filch," said Harry. He was sitting at a picnic table that Hagrid had set up outside of his hut. Ron sat next to him, Lindsay sat across from him, and Hermione was seated next to Lindsay. Everyone had their cups of tea. Huge rock cakes and some dainty tea biscuits were set out on an impressively large tray. They were waiting for Hagrid to emerge from his hut and join them.

"He's not so bad once you get to know him."

"Who would want to?" snorted Ron.

"I just like to get along with everyone," said Lindsay. "My mom called me a people-pleaser. Anyway, Filch is a sweetheart compared to Mr. Roberts. Did I mention him before?"

"No, you haven't," said Hermione, without lifting her head from an impressively thick Arithmancy textbook.

"He was the elderly uncle of one of my medical school classmates. He was quite ill. He had terminal cancer and needed looking after. Becca was too busy to look after him herself, so she asked me to help. We took turns checking in on him. He was a nasty piece of work. He hit people with his cane, threw things, and I'm told he even bit a few people. It took some effort, but we eventually became good friends. It's like what Hagrid says about animals, 'you have to find what calms them'. People are the same; you have to find their triggers. Mr. Roberts' trigger was literature. He had a vast knowledge of literary works. Personally, I never had much of an interest in literature, beyond what I had to read for school assignments. I was always more of hard cold facts sort of person."

"You can relate to that, can't you, Hermione?" said Harry with a wicked grin.

Lindsay blew on her hot tea a few times before continuing. "It was my night to look in on him. He was living in his library by this point. He couldn't make it up the stairs anymore..."

"That's so sad," said Hermione. Harry was politely listening. Ron looked bored.

"...I gave him his dinner, which he threw at me. I moved and it hit the pockets doors behind me and splattered onto some of his books. He became very upset and asked--well, pleaded really--that I clean them. I did, and then I gave them to him for inspection. We started talking about them, and that opened the door. I spent a lot of time with him after that. He taught me so much. I never thought that talking about books would teach me so much about people."

"I'm not sure I follow," said Hermione.

"There's a first."

"Shut up, Ron," snapped Hermione.

"When you read a book everything seems so obvious. The ink is black, the pages are white, and the words are all there in front of you. Mr. Roberts showed me that the real meaning is rarely the obvious one. There are secret meanings between the lines. Many times the writer isn't even aware of them. They're parts of the writer's subconscious that manage to escape onto the page for others to find. So books...well not so much books in general, but creative works are very much like people. The real person isn't usually the one we see, but someone deeper, someone hidden."

"You've totally lost me," said Ron.

"Why am I not surprised?" said Hermione.

"Then again, there are those people who don't hide much of anything--right, Ron?" said Lindsay with a grin, her cup of tea hovering about her lips. She took a sip and began again. "He was a living skeleton toward the end. He became so weak that he needed help with the smallest things. I remember the first time I helped him wash. He bore the indignity stoically, but I cried like hell--after I went home, of course. He was in tremendous pain, but he never complained, not once. I begged him to let me stay with him. I kept telling him how worried I was, but he just said in that very haughty way of his, 'Don't be silly, I'm going to live forever.' I checked on him one morning, on my way to class, and he was gone. He looked so peaceful; all the pain in his face was gone. I really miss him...I'm not talking too much, am I?"

"Just a bit," said Ron. Hermione kicked him under the table.

"I have to respect blunt honesty," said Lindsay.

"Look, there's Snape with his wand out," said Ron. "I wonder what he's up to." They all turned to see Snape with his wand drawn, sprinting toward the tree line and disappearing.

"Ah, the double entendres that are running through my mind right now."

"See that they stay there, Miss Gray," came the stern voice of Minerva McGonagall from behind Lindsay. She was quickly striding toward Hagrid's hut.

"Yes, ma'am," said Lindsay.

"Double what?"

"Double meanings, Ronald," said Hermione.

"Huh?"

"I'll explain it to him later, Hermione," said Harry.

"That guy moves like greased lightning," said Lindsay as she set down her huge tea cup.

"He isn't called the Greasy Git for nothing," said Ron.

"Hagrid!" hollered McGonagall.

Hagrid popped his head out of the window of his hut. "What can I do fer yeh, Professor?"

"One of your beasties has gotten loose!" Everyone at the table rose and charged toward the spot where Snape had just been seen, and nearly ran over Professor Flitwick in the process. They ignored McGonagall's instructions to stay put. They could hear branches breaking and the angry shrieking and snarling of an animal. They followed the sound and found an injured hippogriff. Snape was trying to corral it when it reared up and snapped off a tree branch with its wing. The branch dropped onto the top of Snape's head, and he collapsed to the ground unconscious. Lindsay was running so fast that she slid to a stop and fell on the ground next to Snape. She spied his abandoned wand and stuffed it into the side pocket of her boot. The injured hippogriff was just about to take a swipe at Lindsay's head when Hagrid appeared and forced it back. Everyone else had arrived by this time and set about confining the animal. "Professor Flitwick!" shouted Lindsay. "He has a head injury. He needs his head and neck braced before we can move him."

"I can do that," answered Flitwick as he focused himself. Instantly, a white brace appeared around Snape's head, neck, and chin. Lindsay's hand was on his arm. A faint blue light encircled Snape's body as he was raised off the ground.

"I can run faster than you, sir," said Lindsay.

"Go, girl, go!" shouted Flitwick.

Lindsay sprinted back to the castle with Snape's unconscious form at her side. The voices of six people shouting instructions to each other died away quickly as she dashed across the grounds. She entered the castle shouting "Make way! Make way!" not that it was necessary. Apparently Snape could clear a room even in an unconscious state. She quickly made it to the hospital wing shouting for Madame Pomfrey. Lindsay floated Snape's body over an empty bed and lowered him onto it as Pomfrey materialized at her side. "He has a head injury. We need to check for brain trauma, cranial fractures, vertebral compression fractures, and..."

"Out!" shouted Pomfrey in indignation.

"I'm a trained physician!" Lindsay shouted back.

"Out, I say!" screamed Pomfrey and shoved Lindsay out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Lindsay paced angrily in the hall outside the medical ward for a few seconds before remembering the injured Hippogriff. She moved as quickly through the castle as she could, but it was difficult without Snape's presence to get everyone out of the way. She finally made her way to the outside grounds and bolted to join everyone she'd left only moments ago. The Hippogriff was contained now. Stray branches, logs, and stones of every size were held together magically to form temporary walls. The poor animal was badly injured and looked wild-eyed. Its left wing was broken and it had shards of glass sticking out of its side and chest. It was emaciated; all of its ribs were clearly visible. Lindsay wasn't sure if it was dirty or not, but its coloring appeared to be charcoal grey.

"He was flying erratically and hit one of the greenhouses. Pomona's making repairs right now," said Flitwick to Hagrid.

"He's in right sad shape, poor thing," said Hagrid. "Anyone know where he come from?"

"We thought he was one of yours," said McGonagall.

"Not mine," answered Hagrid, shaking his head. The more he looked at the poor animal, the angrier he became. "Never seen 'im before. None o' Hogwarts' herd 'as that dark color. It's very rare that."

"Is there anything we can do to help, Hagrid?" asked McGonagall.

"No, too many people will jus' frighten 'im. I'll need to win 'is trus' 'fore I can help 'im."

Hagrid shooed everyone away. Hermione went to collect her book from Hagrid's picnic table while Ron and Harry strode back to the castle behind Flitwick and McGonagall. "We should go and see if Pomona needs any help, Filius. Then we'll check in on Severus."

"They're both going to be in fine humor, Minerva."

Lindsay was the only one to linger. "Should I fetch your med bag, Hagrid?"

"I'd appreciate that," answered Hagrid. "But leave it on the ground 'ere and try not teh let 'im see yeh."

Linsay nodded and sprinted back to Hagrid's hut. His medical bag was sitting on the floor next to the table. Neither Fang nor Buckbeak roused when she entered to retrieve it. Hagrid's bag was a large brown leather satchel full of basic veterinary supplies, ointments, potions, and various types of anti-venom. Some of them he'd made himself and the more complicated ones had been made by Snape.

Lindsay strained to lift the bag and struggled with it all the back to Hagrid. She let out a low whistle as she approached the temporary stockade and Hagrid raised his hand to let her know that he heard her. She placed the bag on the ground then returned to the castle without another word. She avoided the hospital wing under the assumption that Snape would be asleep for at least a few hours. She settled on the lawn to watch Fred and George toss a bludger back and forth. Moments later, Hermione settled down next to her with yet another large book in her hands.

"You're gonna go blind, Hermione."

Hermione ignored the comment. "I stopped to see how Snape was on my way back. He's sitting up--"

"He's awake?" blurted Lindsay. "I thought for sure he had a bad concussion."

"He does. That's why Madam Pomfrey won't let him out until tomorrow morning. He's not at all happy about it."

"He's sitting up and talking with a concussion?"

Hermione looked exasperated, as she often did when explaining something to Ron, but she didn't get a chance to elaborate as Draco Malfoy sauntered up to them with Crabbe and Goyle in tow. Fred and George saw Malfoy approach the girls and seriously considered hitting him with the bludger before deciding to settle behind the girls, hovering on their brooms. They missed the beginning of the conversation, which is the only reason they didn't hex Malfoy on the spot.

"Well, look what we have here, boys. It's a squib and a mudblood."

Hermione's face reddened in anger, but she didn't get the chance to retort as Lindsay beat her to it.

"It's obvious that there's some tension between us, Draco--" began Lindsay as pleasantly as usual. Her placid tone made Hermione that much angrier.

"How dare you speak to me, you piece of filth!" Draco drew his wand and hexed Lindsay, thinking that a squib wouldn't be able to retaliate. The spell had barely been released from his wand and it was shot back at him. He flew into the air and landed, panting, on the lawn about ten feet away from where he'd been. Crabbe's and Goyle's tiny brains had difficulty processing what had happened and stood in confusion for several seconds before tending to the irate Malroy. He rose, slapping Crabbe's and Goyle's hands away, and shot a venomous glare at Fred and George before leaving. The twins laughed hysterically as the three of them ran away.

"I can't help but wonder what kind of home life that kid has. He mustn't have had very good role models," said Lindsay, still undaunted.

"That's exactly what George and I were thinking."

"It's like you read our minds," said George.

"What's that in your boot?" said Hermione pointing to Lindsay's boot.

"It's my wand," answered Lindsay without looking. "These boots have pockets on the sides. I love these things; they wear like iron. Great for hiking and working outdoors--"

"No," said Hermione in frustration. "That looks like Professor Snape's wand. Professor McGonagall was looking for it."

"Oh, you're right! I forgot I put it in there. I'd better give it back to him." Lindsay rose and headed for the hospital wing.

"What did you hit Malfoy with? I saw a flash of blue light, and I didn't recognize the spell."

"We didn't hit him with anything," answered Fred.

"I thought it was you," said George.

"It wasn't me," said Hermione. "My wand is still in my pocket."

"It couldn't have been Lindsay," said Fred.

"She's worse than Neville," said George.

Fred nudged George as he watched Crab and Goyle trying to keep up with a swift-running Malfoy. "We should've hit him with the bludger."


	12. Chapter 12

Lindsay reached the hospital wing just as Dumbledore was leaving it. "Hello, Professor." Dumbledore smiled, but didn't answer. He pointed to his mouth as he was obviously eating something, most likely something sweet. Lindsay nodded to him and entered the hospital wing. McGonagall was the first person she spotted. "I have Professor Snape's wand. Sorry, Professor, I stuffed it in my boot and forgot about it."

"That's a great relief, Miss Gray. Filius and I searched everywhere and couldn't find it. We thought the Hippogriff might have eaten it."

Snape was sitting up in bed. His arms were folded across his chest, and he looked to be in a particularly unpleasant mood. Lindsay was surprised to see that he had no bandage on his head. His hair and face were clean. Obviously Madam Pomfrey had washed it while he was unconscious, most likely so she could dress the wound on the top of his head. Lindsay stood next to his bed. "I bet you're happy to get this back." She pulled Snape's wand from her boot. The instant she touched it, a powerful jolt of energy ran through her hand. She stared at it in wonder.

"Is something wrong, Miss Gray?" said Snape.

"Yeah...um, I mean, no, of course not. Here you go, Professor." She handed the wand to him and patted his arm. "I've just remembered something, Professor. I'll be right back." She turned and darted out of the ward.

"No running, Miss Gray," shouted McGonagall. Snape groaned and put his hands to his head. "Oh, forgive me, Severus. I forgot myself."

Lindsay dashed up the hall and caught up with Professor Dumbledore. She pulled her wand out of her boot and held it up for him. "It's fake! You gave me a fake wand!"

"It's a paperweight," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"I've been walking around with this thing for almost two months." Dumbledore grinned broadly at her. "It's not funny, Professor...well, alright it is. It's hilarious, in fact. But why--why would you deliberately make a fool of me?"

Dumbledore took her arm, and she stashed the fake wand back in her boot. "I didn't do it to make you look foolish. It did it because you're terrified of your abilities. A wand would amplify your magic, thereby increasing your fear. You must accept what you are--"

"You saw what I did. I got angry and destroyed an entire room. What if someone had been in there?"

"But no one was in there. You wouldn't have harmed anyone if there had been. Your concern for other's welfare is too great."

Lindsay shook her head. "I can't control it, Professor."

"You have much more control than you realize. Come up to my office with me. I want to show you something." They ascended the stone staircase to the Headmaster's office. He strode over to a cabinet, opened it, and with a wave of his hand, floated a stone bowl embossed with runes onto a table. "Do you know what this?" Lindsay shook her head. "This is called a Pensieve. It can store memories and allow them to be viewed. Now, I want you to recall Severus getting injured."

"Why?"

"Just, trust me. Is the memory clear in your mind? Good, now imagine yourself giving it to me." Dumbledore raised his wand to Lindsay's temple and drew out a long silvery thread and placed it in the Pensieve. "Now lean into the bowl. I assure you it's perfectly safe."

Lindsay did as Dumbledore instructed and found herself running alongside...herself. "This is weird," she said, but no one seemed to hear her. She followed her other self to the Hippogriff. She winced as she watched the branch smash onto Snape's head. The events replayed just as she remembered with one exception. She thought Flitwick had levitated Snape's body for her to transport, but she was seeing herself do it. Not only did she do it without dropping him, but she made it all the way to the hospital wing without assistance.

She stood up from the bowl, a shocked expression on her face. "I thought Professor Flitwick lifted him. I have a photographic memory, how could I not remember correctly?"

"Because you didn't want to," answered Dumbledore. "To accept that you can control your magic, means accepting that it's a part of you." He strode over to a small jar on his desk and brought it over to Lindsay. "Lemon drop?"

"Oh, yes, thank you. My parents traveled extensively and, obviously, so did I. I've visited huge modern cities, and ancient towns and cities full of equally ancient customs. I've been to some of the most remote places in the world and met all manner of people, but I've never felt so out of place until I came here. This is a world within a world, and I'm lost in it. My sense of reality has been turned upside down."

 

"Magic is not a curse, Lindsay, but a great gift; a gift made all the greater because your magic is unique."

"Everything is so new, Professor. I feel like I'm in a dream, and I don't know what's real and what isn't."

"What makes you think that dreams aren't real?" countered Dumbledore. "Perception versus reality, it's a confusing deliberation at the best of times. As a musician, you have greater aural acuity than most people. Does that mean your musical perceptions are false just because others can't hear what you hear?"

"What if I do something wrong?"

"Then you'll try again until you've got it right, just like we all do. Trust yourself, Lindsay. It's high time you faced your true nature. And stop punishing your body. This grueling exercise routine of yours is unhealthy. You think if you exhaust yourself enough, you'll exhaust your magic too. I'm afraid it just doesn't work that way."

Lindsay looked shocked. "How did you know?"

"I'm a busybody," replied Dumbledore. He smiled at her, and his eyes began to twinkle again. "Now, go and visit Severus. I know you're eager to question Poppy."

"Right again, Professor," said Lindsay. "Thank you, sir."

Lindsay returned to the hospital wing feeling lighter, as though a great weight had been lifted from her. She entered to see McGonagall seated next to Snape and looking like she'd rather be elsewhere. Madam Pomfrey was trying to encourage him to eat. "Hello, all," said Lindsay. "Sorry I ran out on you, Professor Snape. Now that I'm back, I promise to give you my full attention."

"Lucky me."

"So how are you feeling, any dizziness or nausea?" Madam Pomfrey harrumphed as she stood next to McGonagall, carefully observing Lindsay.

"No, just a slight headache," answered Snape.

"Extraordinary," said Lindsay. "May I look at the cut on your head?"

Snape frowned and seemed unsure how to answer such an unexpected question. "I suppose," he said slowly.

Lindsay gently pushed his hair behind his ears and cupped his face in her hands. Snape stiffened, uncomfortable with the unfamiliar contact. She first looked into his eyes and muttered, "No dilation." His hair was parted centrally, right where the majority of the gash was located, which made spotting and treated it easier. There was a clear paste smeared liberally over it. There was very little swelling. The gash was closed and the skin was already well-knitted. "Was there any brain swelling, Madam Pomfrey?"

"I wouldn't be worth much if I couldn't handle something as simple as a swollen brain," answered an increasingly perturbed Pomfrey.

"Any vertebral damage?"

"Some minor compression fractures, but nothing I couldn't mend."

Lindsay released Snape's face and kissed the top of his head, well away from the injury. His eyes widened and he rubbed his hand over the spot as if it were itchy. "I'm in awe of your skill, Madam Pomfrey."

Poppy's vexation immediately cooled and she thanked Lindsay. "I did nothing special; any medi-witch could've done the same." She turned her attention to Snape. "You had better eat that, Severus, if you plan on leaving this ward by tomorrow."

"May I sit, ma'am, or were you two having a private conversation?"

"Please do join us, Miss Gray," answered McGongall, who appeared to be very relieved to have another person join them, especially one as loquacious as Lindsay.

Lindsay sat on Snape's other side and instinctively scooped up his hand so it rested between hers. He glowered at her, but didn't pull away. "You're probably wondering why I ran out of here like I did."

"Not really," answered Snape.

"I am a bit curious, Miss Gray," said McGonagall, shooting an acid look to Snape.

"When I took Professor Snape's wand out of my boot, I felt a jolt of energy from it. I hadn't noticed it earlier because of all the excitement." Both McGonagall and Snape appeared baffled. "My own wand doesn't do that." They still looked confused. "So I ran after the Headmaster and he informed me that my wand is actually a paperweight."

McGonagall blinked. "I'm sorry, Miss Gray, did you say that Professor Dumbledore gave you a paperweight?"

"Yes, I did."

After a moment of stunned silence, McGonagall's cheeks began to flush. "All this time!" she began. Snape winced. "No wonder you've been doing so poorly. I can't believe Albus would do such a thing to you. You're taking this awfully well, I must say."

"I was a bit angry at first. But I do love a good joke, even if I'm the butt of it."

"This is no laughing matter, Miss Gray. Albus' little lark has wasted both your time and ours. Not to mention how foolish you must've felt. Stop smirking, Severus!" McGonagall rose abruptly. "I'm going to have a talk with him. Severus, eat that! It's not poison, you know." She stormed out of the hospital wing slamming the door behind her.

"Yikes, I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that," said Lindsay. She pulled Snape's tray of food over the bed where she could get a better look at it. Her other hand still held his. "Let's see what you've got here. That looks tasty," she said as she picked up a fork. "Do you want some help?"

Snape yanked the fork from her hand and dislodged his other hand from her grasp. "I do not," he growled. "I'm quite capable of feeding myself."

"All right, Professor," said Lindsay, who sounded like she was placating a petulant child.

Madam Pomfrey returned and was very pleased to see that Snape had begun eating. "Do you need anything, Severus? No? I'll be back with something to help you sleep when you're finished. He'll be needing some rest, Miss Gray...."

"Yes, ma'am," replied Lindsay and rose to leave. She leaned in to kiss Snape's forehead, but he flinched away. She smiled and kissed the tips of two fingers and touched his shoulder with them. He looked at her as though she'd lost her mind. "Pleasant dreams, Professor."

###

McGonagall stormed up to the Headmaster's office, her anger growing by the second. Dumbledore lowered his magazine to greet her. "Minerva, what a pleasant--"

"How could you, Albus?" she shouted.

"Lemon drop?"

"No, I don't want a blasted lemon drop! A fake wand, how could you do that to the poor girl? You made her look like a fool!"

"Minerva--"

"Weeks! For weeks she's been trying to use a paperweight as a wand! No wonder her spell-casting has been so disastrous! If she'd been a matriculated student, she'd have failed half of her classes! Wait till Filius hears about this! If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were one of the Weasley twins!"

"Minerva, are you quite finished? It was for her own good. I didn't do it to embarrass the girl."

"What possible good could come from a juvenile prank like that?"

"You saw how she was when we met her. She was terrified of magic. A real wand would've only frightened her more."

"We are experienced instructors, Albus," said Minerva indignantly. "We could've helped her through it."

Dumbledore shook his head. "It wouldn't have worked. She'd have given up and gone home the first time she used her wand. The girl's immersed in a world where magic is expected, completely the opposite of how she's been brought up. She feels uncomfortable and out of place. A need to please others is a great part of her character, so it was important for her to be here long enough to form attachments. She respects you, and she'll want to prove herself to you. It was a harsh lesson for her, I admit, but it was a necessary one. I think we'll be seeing great improvements in her."

###

The jokes about Snape's clean hair and overnight stay in the hospital wing were endless: he lost a fight with an enchanted shampoo bottle; he'd had his first shower and got sick; he accidentally fell into a large soapy cauldron, and on and on they went. Snape must've been aware of them because, according to Neville, he was even meaner and more vindictive than usual. Students from all of the houses, except Slytherin, saw a drastic rise in detentions.

There was a crowd of Gryffindors in varying years in Lindsay's rooms. Her door was open. Students were coming and going, helping themselves to whatever edibles that Ron had left in her kitchenette. The twins had somehow found a crate of butterbeer. Lindsay preferred not to ask them how they'd come by it. She sat in her desk chair with her guitar in her lap, strumming it softly. It seemed like every kid that came in had a new Snape joke. "I don't want to be a stick-in-the-mud, guys, but it's not funny to ridicule someone behind his back. He doesn't have the chance to defend himself. " All heads in her near vicinity turned in her direction, a slight feeling of tension rose in the air.

"You're not actually defending The Greasy Git, are you?" asked Fred. He'd transfigured Lindsay's violin into a ukulele and was presently strumming it.

"I suspect a curse," said George. He rose with his wand drawn and began to scan Lindsay with it, trying to detect dark magic.

"I haven't been cursed, George."

"Cursed people always deny being cursed," replied George. "Can't find anything, Fred."

"Hmm, this is puzzling," said Fred.

"Oh, stop it, you two. I'm fine. It's just that I value honesty. If I have a problem with someone, I like to discuss it with him and get it settled rather than talk behind his back."

"We'd say it to his face, but our instinct for self-preservation is too great," remarked George.

"We're not being dishonest," explained Fred. "Since The Git abuses his authority as a teacher, we feel no guilt whatsoever in ridiculing him behind his back. Tit for tat, right George?"

"Right, Fred."

"I hate to say this, but you two can be really cruel sometimes...wait a second," said Lindsay, looking around the room. "Have you seen Neville?"

"Nope," replied the twins.

Lindsay rose, placed her guitar in her vacated chair and headed for the common room. No one there had seen Neville either. "I bet he forgot the password again," muttered Lindsay. She moved Sir Cadogan out of the way to find a very flustered Neville standing in the hall trying to recite a rhyme. He wasted no time getting into the common room before any of the teachers caught him.

"I tried to put the password in a rhyme like you told me," said Neville, "but Sir Cadogan kept shouting at me and I got confused."

"Poor Neville," said Lindsay as she gave him a quick hug. "We'll find something that works for you."

"I think I should just write the passwords down from now on. I'm going to turn in. Good Night, Lindsay."

Loud applause erupted from Lindsay's rooms. "Lindsay, you're missing it," shouted Jackson, a sixth-year boy who'd taken quite a shine to Lindsay. "George transfigured your guitar into a three-and-a-half string lute. He and Fred are performing a song they wrote."

"There's no such thing as a three-and-a-half string lute," replied Lindsay.

"There is now."


	13. Chapter 13

"What're yeh doin' havin' tea with that sneakin' squib?"

"Word travels fast around here," said Lindsay. "Who spilled the beans?"

"Never yeh mind." Hagrid was in an ill-tempered mood. He had to release the bats he'd reared, and it was really hurting him to part with them. They were already safely collected in his satchel, and he and Lindsay were waiting for the sun to go down to release them. The poor condition of his new Hippogriff was adding to his bad humor. The animal's physical wounds were healing, but his state of mind was no calmer. He wasn't bonding with Hagrid, and he wasn't yet strong enough to be introduced to Hogwarts' Hippogriff herd. Hagrid worried about the poor animal's uncertain future, and his fear was coupling with his anxiety over Buckbeak's impending punishment.

"I just like to get along with people, Hagrid," answered Lindsay.

"There's some people yeh just can't be nice teh," warned Hagrid. "Now yeh listen to me. Yeh don' tell that sneakin' squib nothin'. He'll turn on yeh in an instant if he thinks he's got a good bit o' gossip. Mark my words."

"Alright, Hagrid, I promise to be very cautious around Filch."

"We bes' get goin'. The littluns'll be wakin' up soon." Hagrid rose from his chair, picked up his satchel and crossbow, and headed for the door. He turned to give poor Buckbeak a doleful look before closing the door behind him, and taking his lantern from Lindsay. They strode from Hagrid's hut toward the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid's boarhound, Fang, in tow. Hagrid had his satchel over his shoulder, the lantern in one hand, and a massive crossbow in the other. "Yeh never been in the Forbidden Forest, have yeh?"

"I've been in the edge of it with Remus to fetch a Grindylow," replied Lindsay.

"The forest is dangerous, so don' go wanderin' away."

"I have no intentions of wandering, Hagrid. I'm a coward at heart." Hagrid laughed; he patted her shoulder and nearly sent Lindsay on her face. They walked a considerable distance into the seemingly endless forest. Lindsay was very nervous and stayed close to Hagrid. The Forbidden Forest had the feel of something ancient; it had a subtle presence, like it knew they were there. The forest was oddly beautiful in its own dark way, dangerously enticing. Lindsay thought of the old poem, "The Spider and the Fly."

At last, Hagrid found the ideal spot to release his precious cargo. With teary eyes, he set down his lantern, removed his satchel from his shoulder and opened it. The three occupants crawled out onto his outstretched arms. "Go on now. This is where yeh belong." They stretched their wings and circled Hagrid's head several times before disappearing into the darkness. Hagrid sobbed into his hankie.

"It's sad, I know," said Lindsay, reaching up to pat Hagrid's arm. "But they have to grow up." A rustling to Lindsay's side drew her attention. "What is that, Hagrid? Is that a little black dog?" Hagrid didn't hear her. The blast from his nose being blown into the hankie drowned out her voice. The black furry creature, roughly the size of a small spaniel, stopped moving and seemed to invite Lindsay's approach. She moved slowly and cautiously, talking softly to it. It was hard to tell because of the poor light being cast from Hagrid's lantern that still sat on the ground, but the animal looked strangely round, not dog-like at all.

Lindsay stopped and turned to get Hagrid's attention. The animal sprung up and sunk its fangs into her thigh. She yelled from both the sudden fright and the burning pain. Hagrid caught her before she fell. He wrapped his hand around the spider's fangs and carefully unhooked them from Lindsay's thigh. He flung the spider into the brush. It rushed up a large nearby tree and was met by an adult Acromantula. "I must apologize for my son, Hagrid. He's impulsive, but he is only two."

There was no time to argue as Lindsay needed medical treatment. Hagrid carried her to the hospital wing as fast as he could. She'd just begun to cough up blood as he arrived and left her in Madame Pomfrey's care. "Was a baby Acromantula," said Hagrid, barely able to catch his breath. "Bit 'er by acciden', too young teh know better."

Madame Pomfrey gave Lindsay a vial of general spider anti-venom and called for Snape. He would need to brew a batch of Acromantula anti-venom. The anti-venom for this species was unstable and didn't keep for more than a few weeks. It was rarely needed and, therefore, deemed not cost effective to keep it on hand. "That'll slow the effects until Professor Snape can brew the proper potion for her." She cleared the fluid from Lindsay's lungs and put her into a deep sleep. She would remain stable until the proper anti-venom could be administered.

Snape was asleep and didn't appreciate being jolted awake by Madame Pomfrey's voice urgently requesting his assistance. He didn't answer her; he rose, dressed, and began brewing. This potion required a certain level of expertise, but it didn't take very long to brew. He arrived in the hospital wing twenty minutes later with a fizzing, bubbling potion in hand. Both Professors Sprout and McGonagall had arrived within seconds of hearing Pomfrey's emergency call. Hagrid stood a little distance away looking doleful and periodically wiped his eyes with his shirt-sleeve. McGonagall paced pensively, and Sprout sat next to Lindsay patting her hand and petting her face.

This was no time to be concerned with politeness. Madame Pomfrey quickly took the potion from Snape's hand and returned immediately to her patient. She conjured a clear tube that extended down Lindsay's throat. Madame Pomfrey held a small funnel and slowly poured the fizzy potion down Lindsay's throat. It was a tediously slow procedure because of Lindsay's unconscious state. Once finished, Pomfrey flicked her wand and both the tube and its funnel disappeared. She set the goblet aside and checked Lindsay's' vitals.

"You arrived just in time, Hagrid," said Pomfrey as she straightened up. "She'll be alright in a few days. Thank you, Professor Snape. I'll be needing two more doses for her; the next must be administered in four hours."

"I made a small cauldron full. I'll bring it to you."

Dumbledore arrived just behind Flitwick. Neither had the chance to ask anything as Hagrid blurted, "It was my fault! I shouldn' a took 'er wi' me to the forest!" He became so emotional that he wasn't able to speak coherently. Pomfrey shushed him and continued in his stead.

"Miss Gray's been bitten by a juvenile Acromantula. She has a very deep bite wound on her leg. Hagrid arrived just as her internal organs began to break down into jelly. She's very lucky that it was a juvenile, or she'd be in much worse condition. I'll keep her asleep for another twenty-four hours. She'll be right as rain in a few days."

"It was an unfortunate accident, to be sure," said Dumbledore to Hagrid.

"There's nothing more to be done," said Pomfrey. "You may visit her when she wakes, but for now, I must ask you all to leave."

Neville was the first visitor that Lindsay received after she woke. She was still groggy from medication and Madame Pomfrey hadn't let her out of bed yet. Neville sat on her bed and read to her from a gardening magazine. There were loads of pictures of fabulous gardens.

"I really like that one, Neville. I think I'd like something like that in my garden."

"It'd have to be very large," replied Neville.

"Oh, it is. I have loads of space. You should come and see it sometime. Right now it's so dreary and empty. Maybe you could tell me what to plant in it?"

"I'd love too. I'll visit first thing when school lets out, after I visit my Gran, of course." Neville looked more closely at the photo in the magazine. "I've never planned a garden that big."

"Maybe we can talk Professor Sprout into helping us. The three of us will have a blast."

"Am I invited?" Remus bent down and kissed her cheek. He had a tattered book in his hand, which he offered to her.

"You don't need an invitation. My home is always open to you." She thanked him for the book and lifted it to read the title. "Ooo, poetry, how romantic." Neville blushed and looked from Lupin to Lindsay. "Just teasing, Neville," said Lindsay. "You can relax. There's nothing to gossip about, I promise you."

Neville rose and handed Lindsay the magazine. "I've got to go anyway. I've got studying."

Remus smiled and his eyes twinkled with devilment. "That rumor will be all over the school within the hour."

"Neville's tightlipped, Remus. He won't say anything." She thumbed through the book, squinting a bit. "Thank you for this. I don't recognize any of the authors."

"They're not Muggles."

"Oh, well that explains the unfamiliar meter." She closed the book and set it down. "I'll have to read it later. The painkillers haven't worn off. My eyes are still a little blurry."


	14. Chapter 14

She visited Hagrid immediately after Madame Pomfrey released her. He was with the new Hippogriff. She climbed and sat on the wall of the animal's pen. Hagrid was trying to hand-feed him a dead ferret, but the Hippogriff stayed at the far end of the pen.

"Psst."

Hagrid turned; his first reaction was a bright-eyed smile, then his shoulders drooped as guilt crept into his face, and he cast his eyes to the ground. "I'm not upset with you, Hagrid. It could've happened to anyone. It was only a baby Acromantula, after all." She was at a perfect height to hug him.

"Still friends then?"

"The best," replied Lindsay with her trademark warm smile. Hagrid helped her down and offered her a dead ferret.

"Maybe you'll have better luck wi' 'im. He's not comin' 'round to me, that's fer sure."

The animal was cleaner, but still a dark grey color. His wounds were healing nicely, but he'd be heavily scarred for the remainder of his life. His wings were healed, but he refused to use them. He was still wild-eyed and thin despite regular feeding. Lindsay approached slowly and bowed respectfully. The Hippogriff snorted and stamped the earth. Lindsay remained still; sweat was beginning to bead on her brow. The Hippogriff snorted again and trotted around her. He eyed her cautiously then unexpectedly bowed back. She handed him the ferret; he sniffed it, but didn't take it.

"Hagrid," said Ron as he and Harry leaned over the pen. "How's the new...?" The Hippogriff panicked and ran for them, trampling over Lindsay as he rushed at the boys.

"Down!" shouted Hagrid. The boys dropped behind the pen wall as the Hippogriff smashed into it. Hagrid chased it away and took Lindsay back to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey was furious. "Angry Hippogriff," stammered Hagrid.

"Out!" shouted Pomfrey.

Lindsay had sustained broken ribs and would be released the following morning, but not until after a tongue-lashing from Madame Pomfrey for her carelessness. Immediately after Lindsay's reprimand, Professor McGonagall entered the room. Her lips were a thin line, and her eyes flashed in temper. Lindsay prepared herself for another round.

"Not out of the hospital wing a full hour before being readmitted. Well done, Miss Gray. I believe you've set a school record."

"It was an accident...."

"They always are. I suggest you be more cautious in the future, or I shall force precautions on you. Do I make myself clear, Miss Gray?"

"Yes, ma'am." McGonagall turned and left without further comment. "That is one scary woman," whispered Lindsay.

###

The following morning, Lindsay was out of bed and dressed before Madame Pomfrey even woke. She was unaccustomed to inactivity and disliked confinement. She was pacing the floor when Madame Pomfrey came to check on her.

"You're still bruised, Miss Gray, so you must curtail your activities. None of this running, and hiking, and dancing, and whatever other nonsense you get up to."

"Yes, ma'am, I'll take it easy. I promise." Lindsay turned to leave and was called back. Madame Pomfrey handed her a small jar of salve.

"Take this with you, unless you'd prefer the wounds on your legs to become scars."

Lindsay thanked Madame Pomfrey, pocketed the jar, and left to visit Hagrid. She found him feeding the Thestrals.

"What're yeh doin' out here? You should be restin'."

"I feel fine Hagrid. I'm stiff from lying in bed so much."

"Don't yeh touch nothin'. I can do this m'self."

"I won't. I'll just stand here and watch. Have you thought of a name for the Hippogriff?"

"Nope, can't get a feel fer his personality."

"What about something simple, like 'Stampy'?"

"That's a fittin' name" laughed Hagrid.

"Have you figured out where he came from?"

"Nope." Hagrid stood upright, his eyes burned with rage. He wrung his hands in temper. "But when I find out who abused 'im, he'll be a sorry wizard indeed." Lindsay had never seen Hagrid angry before, and hoped not to see it again. They talked for a bit longer and Hagrid's temper waned. He sent her back to the castle before she managed to get herself injured again. She sung softly to herself as she strolled back. She felt fine until she crossed the castle's threshold and a stitch stung at her side. She took a few more steps and the stitch turned into breath-stopping pain. She doubled over to catch her breath. She heard footsteps and looked to see Professor Snape scowling at her.

"Perfect timing as always, Professor. Do you mind if I lean on you a bit?" Snape hadn't expected such a request, or the friendly tone that was used to speak it. Lindsay interpreted his hesitation as assent and reached her arm around his shoulder after moving his long greasy hair out of the way. "It really hurts when someone leans on your hair, doesn't it?" Snape said nothing. Lindsay used her other hand to brace her ribs. Snape slipped his arm around her waist and gripped the hand that lay over his shoulder. Her hair was neatly braided. He inhaled the familiar light scent of gardenia. She was dressed more casually then when he'd first met her, but he thought she looked just as lovely.

Lindsay chatted away while Snape remained silent. "I felt fine until I got back to the castle. Sort of hit me without warning. Here we are. Thank you, Prof...."

Snape turned abruptly and left, leaving Lindsay standing in front of the Gryffindor common room. She entered and went straight to bed. She slept straight through dinner.

###

The door of the common room slid open and in walked the unwelcome figure of Professor Snape. Many of the younger students gasped and hid. The older ones remained in their places and glared at him with nervous contempt. His eyes locked onto Hermione. "Miss Granger," he snapped. Hermione dropped her book and stood before him. "Take me to Miss Gray."

"I think she's asleep, Sir."

"Now, Miss Granger."

Hermione stopped at Lindsay's door. "She's in here, Sir. Would you like me to...?"

"I would like you to be on your way, Miss Granger."

Lindsay lay on her uninjured side and, with some difficulty, had pulled her blankets up high around her face. The only part of her that was left visible was the very top of her head. She fell asleep quickly, and was still in the same position when she was startled awake by a blast of light in her room. She opened her bleary eyes to the menacing black form of Severus Snape standing next to her bed. He didn't waste time with a greeting. "You were not at dinner."

"I fell asleep," she croaked. Her throat was dry. She cleared it more forcefully than she had intended, and it hurt her still bruised ribs. As her eyes began to focus, she could see that he was carrying a moderately sized, dark-blue bottle in his hand. He sat the bottle on her nightstand and leaned over her. "I brought liniment," he said as he began to lower her blankets. He stopped when the blankets were slightly below her shoulder as he realized that she wasn't wearing nightclothes. Lindsay saw a small amount of color rise in his cheeks. "Yeah, I don't like to wear those buttoned-up pj's that Madame Pomfrey puts on us--too restrictive, and I was too sore and tired to wrestle with a nightgown."

Snape suddenly looked unsure of himself and asked, "Would you prefer that I fetch Professor McGonagall?"

"It's okay, Professor. I can handle it. There's no privacy in hospitals, you know." He quickly yanked the blankets down, resting them on her hip. The color in his cheeks deepened. Lindsay wrapped her arms around her chest, but being so large busted only managed to partially cover herself. Snape, for his part, tried unsuccessfully to appear as though he wasn't looking. He popped the stopper off the blue bottle and poured the liniment on his hand. He set the bottle back down and rubbed his hands together, then turned silently to rub it on Lindsay's deeply bruised ribs. She gasped in pain as it felt like every muscle around her ribs suddenly spasmed. "It will only hurt for a moment." The pain eased before he completed the statement, and was gone as quickly as it had come. Lindsay was left with a very pleasant feeling of numbness and warmth.

"That's not what Madame Pomfrey uses."

"It's my own," replied Snape as he jerked the blankets back up around her shoulders.

"You should patent that stuff, Professor. It's fabulous." A proud smile appeared momentarily as he wiped his hands on his robes and re-stoppered the blue bottle. He turned and swiftly left without saying another word.

Lindsay rose and put on her dressing gown. "He's such an odd duck." She slowly stooped to gather up the clothes she'd left on the floor.

"I'll get that," rang Professor McGonagall's stern voice. "You sit." McGonagall waved her wand and a hot tea kettle and plate of food appeared. She waved her wand a second time and Lindsay's clothes rose up, folded themselves, and settled to rest on her trunk. "You missed dinner. I don't typically provide room service, but I thought it appropriate under the circumstances. Hagrid told me you visited him."

"I suppose I over did it."

"I suppose you did. Honestly, Miss Gray, if I didn't know better, I'd think you had a death wish. McGonagall noticed something odd not Lindsay's reaction, but in her lack of it. McGonagall gently put her hand on Lindsay's. Her voice was equally gentle. "You have friends here, Miss Gray, friends who will help you. You need but ask for it."

"Thank you, Professor. You are very kind and very perceptive. I may be too cavalier regarding my personal safety, but I assure you that I don't have a death wish." McGonagall wasn't convinced, but didn't pry. The girl had a right to her privacy. McGonagall poured a cup of tea for both of them. She hadn't intended to stay, but changed her mind in the hopes that her presence could be of some comfort. They talked for several hours and McGonagall was surprised to find that Lindsay was not an open book as she'd thought. Despite her honesty and loquaciousness, the girl kept much of herself and her life private.


	15. Chapter 15

Lindsay sat in the common room with Neville. They'd just finished breakfast and were going over the first set of plans that Neville had drawn up for Lindsay's garden.

"I thought we could put a water feature there, some sort of fountain or pond. If it's not too much of an expense."

"Don't worry about the expense, Neville. Go all out. I'm already excited about the shopping."

"You've got a note."

Lindsay plucked a lavender-colored and scented paper airplane out of the air. It was from Dumbledore. "Gotta go, Neville. The Headmaster wants to see me." Lindsay arrived in the Headmaster's office with her violin under her arm. Dumbledore wore a set of ice-blue robes with silver brocade. "New robes, Professor?"

"Yes, do you like them?"

"You're a vision of masculine loveliness, sir."

Dumbledore laughed and thanked her. His eyes twinkled with merriment. "You're very free with your compliments, Lindsay."

"Only when they're deserved."

"You've been doing very well manipulating objects. I think it's time we try something different. Do you know what apparition is?"

"Yes, but I hardly think I'm ready for it. The thought of splinching myself is a little unnerving."

"You'll do fine. We'll start with simple tasks. I want you to imagine yourself standing over there, on the other side of my desk. Can you do that? Good. Just stay relaxed and focus on that spot." Dumbledore's eyes widened. He hadn't expected this at all. There were now two of Lindsay standing in his office, each looking at the other and both looking solidly corporeal.

"Um, Professor?" said two identical frightened voices.

"Relax, Lindsay. All is well." Dumbledore approached the second Lindsay and passed his hand through her arm. "Did you feel that?" He asked the original Lindsay.

"Yes, you touched my arm."

To the second Lindsay, he asked, "Would you pass me that quill?" She reached her left hand, picked up the quill, and handed it to Dumbledore. "This is remarkable. I've never seen the like. You are a most uniquely gifted witch, Lindsay."

"How do I put myself back together?"

"The same way you bi-located; concentrate and you'll be whole again."

They practiced controlling the bi-location for nearly an hour. Once the fright of seeing a second version of herself had passed, Lindsay quickly grew adept at controlling a second body and processing its sensory stimuli. They ended the lesson, as they typically did, with Lindsay playing her violin. This time Dumbledore had requested Paganini Caprice #24. Dumbledore sat in his favorite chair with his eyes closed swaying slightly to the music. Lindsay stopped playing when she saw Snape enter the room.

"Do forgive me, Severus. I was lost in the melody. Lindsay, I hope you don't mind, but we'll have to continue at another time."

"Not at all, Professor." She packed up her violin, said her goodbyes, and left the Headmaster's office. Lindsay rejoined Neville, and the two set about weeding some of the gardens. Neville pointed out and explained the names and uses for a large variety of plants. Lindsay listened quietly as Neville chattered away about the diseases the plants were susceptible too, and which insects and animals were attracted to them. He described how differently each plant looked at different times of the year and how they were often confused with other plants. Both were wearing tall rubber boots and sloshed through ankle-deep water. Lindsay spied a large green toad sitting on rock. "Look, Neville, there's a toad. That's not Trevor, is it?" She reached out to move it.

"Don't!" shouted Neville, but it was too late. The toad had spit a dart into the bicep of her left arm before disappearing under the water. Lindsay's face went slack, and she slowly fell backwards into the water. Neville held her head above the water and pulled out his wand, which he promptly dropped. He splashed and searched in a near panic. He seized his wand, turned it around to hold the hilt, pointed it to the sky, and shouted, "Periculum!"

Lindsay woke with a blinding headache. She tried to sit up, but was gently pushed back down. She lifted her hand to her head and a tremendous pain shot through her arm. She focused her eyes to see that her arm was quite black all the way from her fingertips to her shoulder. It was then that she realized she was in the hospital wing. "What happened?"

"According to Mr. Longbottom, you were stung by a poison-dart toad. Honestly, Miss Gray, you really must learn to let the wildlife alone."

Lindsay was released in the morning after yet another stern warning from Madame Pomfrey. Her arm was now a dark purplish color, but totally usable. She'd slept off the headache. She returned to her rooms and was greeted by Ron and Harry. Ron was seated at the table eating, and Harry was looking through Lindsay's drawings. "I'm really sorry for scaring that Hippogriff. I didn't know you were in there with it."

"Don't worry about it, Ron. It was an accident. Have either of you seen Neville? He usually visits me in the hospital wing."

"McGonagall gave him detention with Filch," replied Ron.

"For carelessness over the toad," added Harry.

"I'll have to apologize to him, and have a word with Professor McGonagall. Do you know how the Hippogriff is doing?"

"We haven't been back," answered Harry. "Your drawings are good. I like the one where Professor Sprout has dirt on her nose. That's a good one of Hermione too."

"Thank you, I'm still working on them. I plan on using them as bases for oil paintings. I'm just going to get washed up and changed. I want to see how Hagrid's getting along with his new Hippogriff."

"Glutton for punishment," said Harry. "You done eating yet, Ron?"

The gate to Stampy's pen was open when Lindsay arrived. It wasn't like Hagrid to be so remiss, and Lindsay wondered if he'd been injured. She approached very cautiously. Years of dance training had made her surefooted and silent. As it turns out, the caution was unnecessary. Stampy was still in his pen, but he'd been rendered harmless. Hagrid stood over his body sobbing into his hankie. Dumbledore, the only other person present, turned to greet Lindsay as she approached. "You're looking well."

"Thank you, Professor, I feel well. What happened?"

"I'm afraid the poor creature just couldn't hang on any longer. He expired only moments ago. Hagrid called on me, but I wasn't able to help."

Hagrid wailed; it was such a mournful piteous sound that it brought tears to Lindsay's eyes. "I'll jus' go and get a spade then." Hagrid wiped his eyes on his forearm and trudged back to his hut.

Dumbledore watched him leave, waiting until he was out of earshot. Lindsay's eyes moved from Dumbledore to the dead Hippogriff and back again. She was hesitant. Dumbledore's eyes shimmered as they caught hers. "Do it, Lindsay. Try it before Hagrid returns."

Lindsay stepped forward and knelt beside Stampy. She placed one hand on the animal's breastbone and the other on his ribcage. His body was still warm. She focused her attention on his chest; her hands were encircled in a faint blue light. "I hear voices, Headmaster. They're distant, but I...."

"Stay focused." Dumbledore moved closer and studied her face. She closed her eyes tightly and appeared to be listening intently to something he couldn't hear.

Lindsay opened her eyes. "Stand back, sir." Dumbledore stepped back two paces. His eyes widened a little when the Hippogriff's body twitched slightly. "Not strong enough," mumbled Lindsay. She repositioned her hands, raising one slightly and lowering the other. Her brow furrowed and the blue light became more intense. The Hippogriff's body jumped, a foot twitched then a wing. Lindsay took her hands away and moved back. The animal took a great deep breath, opened his eyes, and sat up. He looked first to Dumbledore then to Lindsay and bowed his head. He lay down with his head on his forelegs and rested.

"Ah, Hagrid," said Dumbledore as calmly as could be. "It seems to have been a false alarm. The animal was just in a very deep sleep."

Hagrid dropped his spade and stared in disbelief. "It can' be. I checked 'im mehself."

"Well, we all make mistakes. But he does appear a bit under the weather. Perhaps a few dead ferrets will brighten him up. Lindsay, if you wouldn't mind escorting me back to the castle." Lindsay patted Hagrid's arm as she passed him, and locked the gate behind her as she and Dumbledore exited the pen. She hooked her arm in the Headmaster's and they walked slowly back to the castle. "Tell me what you heard."

"It was jumble of voices, some human and some I couldn't identify. It's hard to explain. It's like putting on a blindfold and walking through a crowd of people who are all talking at once, and finding a familiar person by voice alone. The more I focused, the louder one voice became. Well, I thought it was a voice at first, but it was more like feeling."

"A feeling? Like a touch?"

"It was emotion used as language. I felt what Stampy felt, and I understood what he was telling me. It seemed like both feeling and sound while it was happening, but now that I think on it...."

"Don't over-analyze, you'll only muddle things up. Some things must be accepted as they are. Now tell me what you did to make the body jump."

"Oh, that was the easiest part of it all. Once I convinced Stampy that Hagrid wouldn't hurt him, he agreed to come back. I just used defibrillation to restart his heart. Muggle doctors use medical tools to do it. It's just a jolt of electricity that gets the heart pumping again."

Dumbledore was silent for a moment. He stopped walking and tilted his head down to look Lindsay in the eyes. "Tell me, what would you have done if Stampy had refused to return with you?"

"I don't know; nothing, I suppose. I guess I would've helped Hagrid bury him."

Dumbledore's voice became uncharacteristically stern. "Listen carefully. You have a tremendous gift and like all gifts, it can be abused and done so in the most horrific ways—ways that you have yet to discover. Resurrecting the dead is part of Necromancy, one of the darkest forms of magic." Lindsay went pale. "Don't misunderstand me. What you did was not dark; you healed a damaged soul, which is as far from Dark Magic as one can get. There are witches and wizards who study for decades to learn how to do what you just did naturally. You will be of great interest to those with dark ambitions. I must ask you to keep your abilities to yourself—for your own safety. Secrets can't be kept forever, but for now it would best if you didn't tell anyone."

"Alright, I'll do as you say."

Dumbledore resumed walking. "The uniqueness of your ability defies categorization. Compared to the average witch, your abilities are modest and yet you just performed magic that requires a great deal of skill. You are a paradox, Lindsay—a very pleasant one, however. Hmm, a thought has just occurred to me. How does a nice big slice of pie sound?"

"It sounds delicious."


	16. Chapter 16

Lindsay dined with Remus in his quarters. He'd been ill again and was still recovering. He moved away from his small dining table and sat in a large overstuffed armchair wrapped in a shabby brown dressing gown. Lindsay was fussing over him, wrapping a blanket around his feet and legs.

"Stop hovering, Lin. I'm fine."

"You look awful."

"I'm just tired." Lindsay stopped fussing and moved to the table to clean up the dishes. "There's an easier way to do that."

"It's just habit, I guess."

"Come and sit. The house-elves will tidy up." Lindsay took the chair opposite him. "You look preoccupied. What's bothering you?"

"I'm disturbed by something I was reading. Is Necromancy actually real?"

"That is very advanced stuff; too advanced for you, but, yes, it's real."

"I just don't understand this idea of Dark Magic. Moving objects is easily explained. It's telekinesis, applied kinetic energy...."

"Ugh, Muggle terms again."

"It's the only way I can relate, Remus. Even transfiguration can be explained scientifically—if I try hard enough. Much of what I understand of the Dark Arts is similar to the magic I see people performing every day. How do you know the difference?"

"Regarding the less complex forms of Dark Magic, much of the difference lies in the intent of the witch or wizard performing it. Let's use the Imperius Curse as an example. As you know, it's one of the Unforgiveables because its ability for misuse is so profound. But let's assume one were to use that curse just long enough to prevent a person from harming herself or someone else. The spell is dark, but in this example, its use wasn't. It's a grey area to be sure, but the curse was used with good intentions. That, however, doesn't make one exempt from issues regarding the legality of casting the curse."

"Alright, so application can affect spell classification—at least in terms of moral issues. But what about the more advanced stuff, is it strictly dark, and what makes it so?"

"I don't teach Dark Magic, Lin. I teach defense against it."

"I hate it when you're evasive, Remus."

"I know, but you must admit that I'm quite good at it."

###

Lindsay bypassed the Gryffindor common room. She took a separate staircase that led to her rooms. An unpleasant smell of something burning assaulted her nostrils when the suit of armor that guarded the entrance to the hallway moved aside. She stepped past the guard. The hallway floor was covered in low-lying black smoke. The same black smoke was billowing out from under her door. She touched the knob to see if it was hot, it wasn't. She heard two identical male voices talking and laughing on the other side of it. It was undoubtedly the Weasley twins again. Without a word, Lindsay turned and headed for the kitchens to get a cup of coffee. It was probably going to be a long night, and she had no intentions of being anywhere near Professor McGonagall when she discovered whatever it was the twins were up to.

After twenty or so minutes of wandering the castle, Lindsay found herself in the dungeons, a part of the castle she rarely visited. She'd allowed her mind to wander and paid little attention as to which direction she walked. She heard a terrible racket coming from Snape's office and picked up her pace to investigate it. She entered just as Snape was upending a heavy wooden table with his bare hands. There were several glass jars lying broken on the floor. She noticed some light-blue goo oozing toward her and stepped out of the way before it reached her feet. Snape whirled around suddenly, his black robes flowing around him, and stopped in his place with a ferocious look on his face. He'd thought he was alone and was momentarily startled by her presence.

"Temper tantrums are so cathartic, aren't they? It's like when you're sick and have to vomit, but you try to hold it in because there are people watching and it's embarrassing. Letting it out is good; holding it in is bad. I prefer to punch a heavy bag though--I don't like to make a mess--but whatever works for you."

"Get out!"

"No, I can't do that," said Lindsay as she sipped her coffee.

"Get out you imbecile, or I'll throw you out!" roared Snape.

Lindsay looked him in the eyes and sighed. "Wow, that was really hurtful, Professor. But this is good; we're getting the negative feelings out in the open. It's always best to talk things through especially since we never worked out that last angry outburst when you threw me out." She took another sip of her coffee. Snape flicked his wand and the coffee cup flew out of her hand and smashed against the dungeon wall. Her eyes followed the smashed cup. "Hmm, I was really enjoying that too, but it is very late to be drinking coffee." She turned back to meet Snape's eyes. "Am I supposed to cry now, or were you expecting fear? I hate to disappoint you, but I don't cry easily and as for fear...well, let's just say that I've encountered far more frightening things than you."

"Get out this instant," growled Snape as he rushed toward her and grabbed her wrist. She twisted and locked his wrist. He winced as his grip was pried away and stepped back from her. "Your wizardly gifts may be superior to mine, Professor, but I'm no petite weakling. My body is strong and I know how to use it."

Snape pressed his fingers into his temples. He was trying to restrain his temper enough to keep from hexing her, but she continued to press him. His faced turned oddly pale and appeared marble-like. Lindsay saw the change, but ignored it. "I'm not such a fool, you know. I read people well. I know you're deliberately trying to make me hate you. Well, it's not working; I don't hate you. I don't even dislike you, but you do get under my skin sometimes. I'll grant you that much."

"A moving speech, is my heart to be warmed by that fact that you like me?"

"I never said that I liked you. I haven't decided that yet."

"Do inform me when you've made up your mind. I shall be most anxious to learn the verdict."

"You think you're all hidden in your buttoned-up blackness. You're not such a great mystery, you know. You're nasty because you think you can't have me. You think I'm too far out of your league, which, of course, I am--and don't think for a second that I'm not fully aware of it." Snape's face flushed an ugly dark red and the veins in temples began to pulse. "Well, that hit a nerve, didn't it?" said Lindsay, her smile broadening. "See, I can be hurtful too. But if you really fancy a game of verbal tag, I can play all night, and I can cut just as deeply as you."

Snape drew his wand in a rage with the full intent of hexing her, but as soon as the energy was expelled it shot back at him. He was knocked violently off his feet and landed hard on the dungeon floor. "Oops," said Lindsay. She looked indifferently at him as he glared at her from the floor. "Sorry, Professor, that happens involuntarily. You might want to think twice before hexing me again." She stepped toward him and bent down, speaking softly. "I don't want to fight with you, and I don't want to be your best friend. I just want to get along. Can we do that...please?" She stood and extended her hand. Her calm jovial demeanor had a similar effect on him as an ice bath. He sat on the floor breathing heavily and feeling foolish. He hesitated before taking her hand. Once upright, he flicked his wand and the room began to right itself.

"What did you do?" asked Snape huffily.

"I don't know. That's why I'm here, so people like you can explain it to me. I promised the Headmaster that I'd keep that ability to myself. I feel badly about that; I like to keep my word. So... you want to get some ice cream?" He frowned and stared at her like she'd just said something incomprehensible. He stashed his wand in his pocket. Lindsay left the room fully expecting the door to be slammed shut behind her, but was astonished to find that he chose to accompany her—and at a reasonable pace instead of his usual hurried stalking stride.

"Would you care to explain to me what you're doing in the dungeons at this hour?"

"The Weasley twins blew up my rooms again." Snape's head turned toward her. He didn't need to say anything as the question was clearly written on his face. "I've learned not to ask. I saw black smoke coming from under the door so I just left. I'd rather not be around when Professor McGonagall finds out, so I took to aimlessly wandering the castle. I heard the commotion in your office and thought it was Peeves, otherwise I wouldn't have bothered you."

"And if it had been Peeves?"

"I didn't think that far ahead."

"Clearly," said Snape.

"I feel compelled to point out the fact--just in case you didn't notice--that I didn't ask what was bothering you..." Snape stopped and glared at her. "...and I don't intend to, but if you're ever in the mood to share, I'm all ears."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Snape and resumed his pace.

"Did you hear about Black brandishing a knife at poor Ron Weasley?"

"I did," said Snape.

"I can't imagine how he's getting in with all the security here."

"It is a mystery, and one that you should take more seriously. Walking about the castle unescorted isn't wise."

"An escaped convict wouldn't have any interest in me; I talk too much. He'd get caught like that." Lindsay snapped her fingers. "I haven't had ice cream in ages. Double fudge sounds good or maybe butter almond. You'll tell me if I get almonds stuck in my teeth, won't you? I hate when that happens and no one says anything. So what's your favorite flavor?"

"I don't have one."

"I know what you mean. There are so many good ones, how do you pick just one?"

The house-elves instantly became a blur of commotion and filled the kitchen with noisy chatter when they saw Lindsay enter. The noise and commotion halted as soon as Snape entered behind her. They sat at a small table facing each other. Lindsay had a large bowl of various flavors of ice cream, some she'd never tried before. Snape had a single scoop of vanilla that sat untouched and melting in front of him.

"Don't get sick on all that ice cream, Professor."

Snape scowled as he eyed her, looking mildly irritated, which Lindsay interpreted as his version of a good mood. Then his expression softened and a small devilish smirk appeared as though something had just occurred to him. His eyes glittered as he spoke. "So how are you enjoying the Gryffindors?"

"They're an excitable bunch, but nice kids for the most part."

"Excitable is a polite way of describing them. I've always thought of them as an unruly bunch of rabble-rousers."

"That's a bit harsh, Professor."

"You haven't dealt with them as long as I...unless, perhaps, you are of a like mind."

Lindsay set down her spoon and made deliberate eye contact as she spoke. "Thank you for the unintentional compliment, Professor. I have grown beyond a teenage mentality, but it's nice to know I haven't visibly aged." Snape didn't hear what he wanted, but he definitely saw an answer in her eyes that pleased him very much. They had tea after Lindsay finished her ice cream, which Snape actually drank. They exchanged a little small talk, and Snape walked her back to her rooms.


	17. Chapter 17

It was a Wednesday afternoon, and Lindsay found herself in the increasingly familiar company of Jackson. He was seated next to her with his arm slung across her shoulder, an action that was quickly becoming a habit. He'd forgone his own homework under the pretense of helping Lindsay with her Charms and Transfiguration essays, which she didn't need and hadn't asked for. He slid his arm a little further down her shoulder and she rose. Her intention wasn't made clear to him though, as at the same time Lindsay rose, her door opened with a bang and was accompanied by disgruntled shouting from Wately as he entered and paced the room in a temper. Wately was another sixth year student and Jackson's best friend. They were of equal height, slightly above average. Wately's stocky frame contrasted sharply with Jackson's much leaner build.

"He caught me! I can't believe it! Two years I've managed to slip him, and he caught me!"

"What are you going on about?"

Wately stopped pacing and answered his friend as calmly as he could manage. "Snape caught me and took my mags. I've got detention with Filch for the next month."

"It's bad luck, mate, but you knew it was bound to happen sooner or later," said Jackson

A paper airplane arrived for Lindsay as the boys were speaking. "Sorry to interrupt, guys, but I've got to go." Lindsay grabbed her violin and bag.

"Dumbledore again?" said Jackson.

"No, Snape."

Jackson tried to offer more encouraging words to his friend, but Wately wasn't listening. He silently watched Lindsay leave the room. "Don't you think that's odd?"

"What?"

"She never takes her violin with her when she sees the Git."

Jackson reached for the letter Lindsay had laid on the coffee table. "He told her to."

"Let me see that."

"That's all it says, Tom."

Wately read the note aloud. "Come to my office. Bring your violin. ~ Professor Snape. Don't you think that's a bit odd, John?"

"No, sometimes she goes to the teachers' offices for theoretical lessons. She goes to their private rooms sometimes too. I know she's been in McGonagall's and Lupin's rooms a few times."

"But this isn't McGonagall or Lupin we're talking about here. It's the Greasy Git. The only place he invites anyone is to detention." Wately balled up the letter and flung it into the fire.

###

Lindsay raised her hand to knock on Snape's office door and was told to enter before her knuckles rapped the wood. "It's amazing how he does that." She entered into a cold, stark, dimly lit room that was piled from floor to ceiling with potions and potions ingredients. "Someone's been a busy little beaver." There was no decoration in the room, no hint of the man's personality. There weren't any pictures or keepsakes that usually adorn a person's desk. Snape was seated behind his desk grading student essays. He set aside his quill and stood as Lindsay entered the room. "Are we brewing in here, Professor? Seems a little cramped for that."

"No, this isn't a lesson. I," Snape hesitated, looking uncomfortable. "I merely wished to hear you play."

Lindsay set her bag on the floor and placed her violin case on a nearby table, the same table that she'd watched Snape upend a few nights before. "I don't need much encouragement to play. I've always been a music lover. Oh, dear, it looks like Fred broke a string and forgot to tell me. You don't mind while I restring this, do you?"

"Not at all." There were two leather-bound chairs in front of Snape's desk set for visitors. He turned one around to face Lindsay.

"I'm feeling a bit bold tonight, Professor, so I'd like to ask you something. Would you mind sitting for me sometime?"

Snape gathered his robes about him and sat upon the chair in such a theatrically elegant way that Lindsay burst into laughter. Snape was expressionless. "You do know what I mean, right?"

"I do. I'll let you know when I have the time. Where would you have me sit?"

"My rooms would be the most convenient. I have all my art supplies set up there." She turned back to her violin and began removing the broken string. Snape's presence didn't unnerve her, nor was she bothered by his obsessive studying of her, but his near perpetual silence was oddly unsettling. Lindsay knew many people who weren't talkers, and their frequent silence never bothered her. There was something different about Snape's unobtrusiveness; the silence from him was so much like an unpleasantly pregnant pause that it made her uncomfortable. She began to prattle.

"I've had this violin since I was twelve. It was a birthday present from my parents. I'd started with a child-sized one that had been my sister's. My parents wanted to get me something new and expensive; they thought that would make it special. I saw this in a bookstore, of all places. My mother was friendly with the owner, who'd found the violin in her attic. As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to have it. It needed a little work, but it played well. It's got scratches and dings and it's worn from use, but those things just give it character. I wonder sometimes about all the hands that have played it. I think of all the fumbling mistakes and all the proud moments when a piece has been learned and played perfectly. All that history is much more special than something shiny and new."

Snape stared at her in silence. Lindsay wondered if he'd listened at all.

"Is there something specific that you'd like to hear?"

"The piece you played for the Headmaster."

"Ah, you're a man of discerning taste, Professor. Paganini isn't easy to play."

Snape observed her as she played. His supposition had been correct. The more she focused on the music, the easier it was to enter her mind. She looked at the violin and not him, but he had a good enough view of her eyes to see some of her thoughts. He was very careful not to penetrate her mind too deeply for fear of triggering her natural defense mechanism. His snooping had to be subtle or he'd risk alerting her photographic recall to his covert shenanigans. The fact that she had an eidetic memory made it that much easier for him. Her thoughts were clear, well arranged, and easily triggered by indirect visual stimuli. Something as simple as holding a magazine or charming a streak of Weasley-red into his hair would make thoughts flash through her mind. He was overwhelmed by the vast amount of information her mind could hold at one time, and had to choose his prompts carefully. Information would rush by so quickly that he had difficulty grabbing useful material. He was so pleased with his goldmine of information that he requested she play for him several nights a week. Not surprisingly, the amount of detentions given to rule-breaking students increased dramatically, particularly for Gryffindors.


	18. Chapter 18

Lindsay Entered the Gryffindor common room with her violin case tucked under her arm as usual. Hermione, who was sitting in front of the fire with an open book on her knee, noticed the puzzled look on her face immediately. Ginny was sitting next to Hermione, relaxing as she stared blankly into the fire. Ron and Harry were sprawled on the couch next to them with unopened textbooks in their laps, talking about Quidditch. "Is everything alright?" Lindsay didn't respond immediately so Hermione repeated the question more loudly.

"Oh, sorry, uh...yeah everything's fine." She stopped and knelt in front of the fire and looked up at Hermione and Ginny. "It's just a little odd," she said quietly. "He's asked me to play the same piece every single time, but tonight he asked me to play something soft."

"Whose piece went soft?" shouted George, who seemed to appear from nowhere with Fred at his side. Many of the Gryffindors snickered, but some were looking ill-at-ease.

"Oh, you're disgusting!" shouted Hermione, slapping her hands down on her textbook as Fred and George neared the couch. Ginny brought her hand up to cover an uncontrollable smile. Harry and Ron laughed aloud and made no attempt to hide the fact.

"You're absolutely right, Granger," said Fred in mock disgust, his elbows resting on the back of Harry and Ron's couch. George was a mirror image standing next to him. "The idea of Lindsay and Snape in a passionate embrace is just absurd. As greasy as he is, he'd just slide right off of her."

Lindsay, good-natured as usual, stood up smiling ready to retort, but was beaten to it by a very disgruntled-looking Jackson. "Fred and George may seem like they're joking, but they're really just saying what we're all thinking."

"Speak for yourself, Jackson," answered Fred.

"We really are just joking," added George.

Lindsay looked both puzzled and hurt as she rounded the couch to stand in front of Jackson, effectively placing herself between him and Fred. "What are you talking about?"

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about," spat Jackson. "You're always with him. It's unnatural."

"If by 'him' you mean Professor Snape, I don't understand what the problem is. He sent for me. You were here; you saw that. And I've been honest with all of you about what happens. I play my violin for him, that's it. I regularly do the same for Dumbledore."

"But this is Snape we're talking about," said Jackson as if the mere mention of the name was suitably explanatory. Several of the students muttered encouragement, and Jackson looked around to see who was on his side. His confidence was greatly bolstered by the many heads nodding in agreement with him. "Nobody likes him. Even his Slytherins hate him. They're just too afraid of him to admit it. And yet you spend an inordinate amount of time with him. Why is that?"

"I spend more time with Hagrid than anyone. A lot of the students spend time with the professors. Neville's with Professor Sprout right now. Are you going to accuse them of something illicit too?" answered Lindsay.

"It's not just us. People in the other houses are saying it too, even some of the Slytherins."

"Exactly what are people saying, Jackson?" asked Fred in an uncharacteristically icy tone. Both he and George had a rising flush of red in their cheeks and ears. The common room suddenly became eerily silent. Fred stepped a little closer to Jackson and rested his hand on Lindsay's shoulder. Jackson looked from Fred to George, apparently unwilling to fully engage the angry twins. Wately rose from the table where he and Jackson had been playing a game to stand next to his friend, and directly in front of George. Other Gryffindors were beginning to hedge closer. Harry and Ron were off the couch and standing behind the twins. Hermione and Ginny hadn't left their places, but were no longer seated.

"She's spying for Snape," blurted Wately.

"Spying?" said Lindsay. "That's silly. What could I possibly be spying about?"

"All I know is that I got caught in the greenhouse with my mags. Now I've got detention with Filch every night."

"Everyone knows you read your pornos in the greenhouses, Wately," said George.

"But Snape didn't! Not until she told him!"

Jackson turned to look at George. "You can't tell me that you haven't noticed an increase in the amount of detentions Snape's been giving us."

###

Professor McGonagall was seated at a small table with a cup of tea and some biscuits. She was reading the newspaper. Her hair was down in a long braid, but she hadn't yet changed into her night clothes. She looked away from her paper to listen to the raised voices coming from the common room. Raised voices and sudden loud noises were familiar occurrences as her Gryffindors were easily excited. The natural excitability of her Gryffindors had become particularly volatile since the arrival of the Weasley twins at Hogwarts. She waited a moment, expecting her students to regain their composure. When the raised voices turned to full-on shouting, she slammed her newspaper onto the table in irritation and rose to quell the commotion, fully expecting the twins to be at the heart of it.

###

"We're all Gryffindors here," shouted Fred and George in unison.

"She's not; she was never sorted!" retorted Jackson.

"Well, she stays in Gryffindor Tower. That's good enough for us," replied the twins.

"Please, guys," pleaded Lindsay, "I promise you, I'm not spying on you and there's nothing going on between Professor Snape and me."

"Right," said Jackson snidely.

Wately quickly followed up with, "Oh, come on, we've all seen him watching you. When Snape's not looking at your arse, he's staring at your tits!" Just as soon as the sentence was given life, the balled fist of George's right hand smashed down onto Wately's chin. Fred shoved Lindsay out of the way as he lurched for Jackson. She landed hard on the floor. Jackson's left hand shot out and caught Fred's shoulder, stopping his forward momentum. Jackson's right hand was balled into a fist and raised in the air ready to launch, but Fred brought his right hand up to break Jackson's hold on him and threw his left hand into Jackson's stomach. A large 7th year boy rushed at George and wrapped his arms around his waist, knocking him to the floor on top of Fred. In the blink of an eye, every occupant of the common room was in pile, wrestling on the floor. The younger students, who had already gone to bed, had begun to gather on the dormitory stairs to see what all the commotion was.

No one saw or heard McGonagall enter the common room, nor did they hear her shout at them until she drew her wand, which she pointed at her throat. "Sonorus. STOP THIS! STOP THIS AT ONCE!" Her voice thundered and everyone froze in their places. The room instantly became as quiet as a crypt. The younger students turned and bolted back up the stairs to their dormitories. "Quietus." McGonagall lowered her wand and silently surveyed the students, taking note of all the blackened eyes, swollen lips, and bloodied noses. She stared in disbelief as Hermione Granger rose from the floor. Hermione's hair stood on end; she was rubbing the back of her head where someone had pulled out a great patch of it. Ginny Weasley stood next to her with a bloodied lip that was dripping onto her shirt.

"What is the meaning of all this?" She looked from one face to the next, but they all dropped their heads and refused to answer. "Rest assured that I will get to the bottom of this, and you will all be severely punished for this egregious display. I have never seen such appalling behavior!" McGonagall's voice was icy and quavered with rage. "Fighting with members of your own house, I'm ashamed of all of you!" And there began the most vicious, and quite possibly the longest, tirade of Minerva McGonagall's teaching career. Every person in that room wished that she would just beat them, or hex them, or do anything else, just as long as she stopped yelling at them. "Two-hundred points from Gryffindor!" She stormed out of the common room toward her private quarters as Neville Longbottom entered. His features changed from good-humored to perplexed as his eyes took in the destruction.

"What's happened?"

"Ugh, Neville!" snorted Hermione as she turned and stormed up to her dormitory.

"What?"

McGonagall began investigations in the morning. No one was sure who talked, but someone certainly had told her something. She took the news to the Headmaster. "I'm very concerned, Albus. There's a great deal of animosity brewing among the students regarding Miss Gray. I don't understand it. The only ones that don't seem to be bothered are the youngest students and the more hormonally driven boys."

"What has brought on this sudden change, Minerva? I was under the impression that Miss Gray was generally thought to be quite amiable."

"Apparently," began McGonagall, shooting a piercing gaze at Snape, "some of the students think that Miss Gray has been spying on them for Severus."

"Preposterous," murmured Snape.

"How does Miss Gray feel about this?"

"Well, she's obviously upset, but she's been quite clear about wanting to continue her studies."

"Good," said Dumbledore, looking relieved. He turned from them, sat down behind his desk and picked up a magazine. "Let us see that this animosity doesn't grow any further. Otherwise we'll continue as usual."

"Very good," said McGonagall as she turned and left.

"Anything else, Headmaster?" said Snape.

"No, I don't think so," said Dumbledore as he raised his magazine and began thumbing through it. "Oh, Severus...there is one more thing," Dumbledore lowered his magazine enough to peer over the top of it. "Stop spying on the Gryffindors."


	19. Chapter 19

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and the twins sat closely together in the common room discussing the cause of the tension among the Gryffindors.

"I don't believe it," said Neville. "Lindsay would never turn on us."

"Fred and I don't believe it either."

"It is rather odd," began Hermione. Six pairs of eyes narrowed slightly as they looked at her. "I'm not taking Jackson's side. I'm just stating the obvious. It's odd how much time she spends with Snape. It could be perceived as suspicious, especially with the drastic rise in detentions everyone's been getting."

"Filch caught Ron and I going to the kitchens and Lindsay covered for us."

"We never got in trouble, so she mustn't have told anyone," said Ron.

"If she was going to turn spy," said Ginny, "that would've been the perfect opportunity."

"Not really," said Hermione. "If I were a spy, I wouldn't want anyone to find out. If I'd caught Ron and Harry, and they got in trouble later, it would be obvious who told. It would have to be me as I would've been the only witness, other than Filch."

"So what are you saying, Granger?" said Fred.

"Are you for or against?" said George.

"Neither really, there aren't enough facts."

"Well, I like her," stated Ginny.

"I like her too," said Hermione, "and I'm not blaming her. I'm just saying that something peculiar is going on."

"George and I are going to fetch her. She needs to stop avoiding the common room."

Twenty minutes later the twins re-entered the common room, dragging Lindsay by her arms. "This is a mistake, guys."

"Nonsense," said George.

"Everyone misses you," said Fred.

"Not everyone." Numerous hate-filled glares turned in Lindsay's direction. The twins stared back, challenging anyone to speak. Many of the students rose and went to their dormitories. The tension in the air was thick. Fred and George plopped her down in a chair next to Neville. "I promise all of you that I'm not spying...."

"We believe you," said Neville.

"All of us," said George.

The common room was now mostly full of younger students as many of the older ones preferred the privacy of their dormitories rather than be in Lindsay's company. There were a few older students who approached her to state their belief that Snape had set her up, and that they had no hard feelings toward her. This prompted a lively exchange of theories among the small group of supporters as to how Snape had managed to catch so many students, and what might be his ultimate goal.

"Where did Fred and George go?" said Ron. "They were just here a minute ago. Did you see them, Ginny?"

"No, I wasn't paying attention."

Lindsay was facing the direction of the hallway that led to her rooms, so she was one of the first to see the menacing black form of the Potions Master silently enter the common room. Many of the students dashed to the safety of their dormitories. Others hesitated, unable to decide whether to run or hide. Lindsay's attention was immediately drawn to a fleeting expression on Snape's face. A mischievous twinkle glinted in his dark eyes, and was accompanied by a short-lived devilish grin. She finally saw his moment.

"Miss Gray, I've come to sit for you."

"That's wonderful, Professor. Excuse me, everyone, I have some sketching to do." Lindsay's excitement was obvious. She made no attempt to hide it, but some observers found it a bit disconcerting.

"That wasn't suspicious in the least," remarked Hermione as the two adults left the common room.

###

"I hope tea is acceptable, Professor. I'm not a drinker, so I don't keep alcohol in."

"Tea is fine," replied Snape.

Lindsay moved to her kitchenette. "Make yourself at home...did you hear that?" She went to her bedroom door, which was open. She never left it open. "Anyone in there?"

Two werewolves jumped out at her, growling and snarling. Lindsay yelled and jumped away. She felt herself being jerked backwards by a pincer-like grip on her arm. Snape stood in front of her. His wand was drawn and aimed.

Both werewolves raised their hands above their heads. "Don't shoot! It's us, Fred and George!"

Lindsay laughed hysterically. "You scared the hell out of me!"

"That was the idea," said Fred. Lindsay pulled at Fred's snout. "Ow!"

"Is that your skin?"

"Of course," answered Fred. "What good is a costume that comes off?"

"They look so realistic," said Lindsay.

"We haven't perfected them yet," replied George, "but we're nearly there."

Snape holstered his wand, looking greatly relieved. "Out! You'll both be seeing Filch tomorrow evening. Twenty points each from Gryffindor for endangering the safety of others...and yourselves."

The twins left in single file, dropping white feathers as they went. Their fronts were near perfect replicas of werewolves, but the backs of their costumes looked like ducks.

"You're dropping feathers, Fred."

"I'm molting, George."

"Those are two more reasons why I don't keep alcohol in here. They didn't mean any harm, Professor. They were just having some fun."

"I could have injured them quite badly as could anyone else with a wand and good reflexes."

It wasn't Lindsay's place to challenge Snape's authority, so she let the matter rest. She rubbed her right arm. "You have a surprisingly strong grip, Professor."

"I apologize if I've injured you. I can come back another time."

"No need to apologize. I can handle a bruise. I'm left-handed anyway, so it's not a problem. If you would sit there next to my easel, we can get started." Lindsay moved to her desk to get her sketchpad. She stooped to pick up a soft, yellow, baby blanket from the floor. A plant, hopping along in its pot, rushed out from the dark space between her desk and the wall, and bit at her hands. "Did you drop your blankie, Herbie?" She put the blanket over the nasty plant's head. "Night-night, Herbie, night-night." It hopped back into the corner and pulled the blanket around itself. She turned back to Snape who was scowling. "Neville brought him in. The bigger plants were picking on him. He'll be able to go back when he's done teething. He's growing so quickly--eats coffee grounds like there's no tomorrow. He'll go to sleep if I sing to him. You don't mind, do you?"

Snape didn't reply. Lindsay began to softly sing a lullaby as she set up her easel and pencils. She looked at Snape and rose to position his face. He hadn't expected that she'd be touching him. She pushed his hair behind his ears and turned his head. She stepped back, observed his features, and then repositioned him. She did this several times before sitting in front of her easel. All the contact made him very uncomfortable, and he resisted the urge to scratch his suddenly itchy face. She finished singing the lullaby and immediately carried on singing something else. Snape didn't recognize the lyrics, but it sounded like the melody she'd played for him a few nights ago. He'd had a headache then, and asked her to play something softer than the Paganini piece she usually played for him. She had a lovely singing voice.

He thought her habit of blathering to him was annoying, but he now found himself wishing she'd speak to him. Singing to him made him uncomfortable for reasons he couldn't identify. He began to sweat. Lindsay apparently had quite good peripheral vision as her eyes rarely left his face. She'd never observed him so intensely before, and he didn't like it at all.

Lindsay abruptly stopped singing and set down her pencil. She rose and approached him, pulling a white handkerchief from her pocket to pat his face. "It's unnerving to be scrutinized, isn't it, Professor?"

He turned away from her and wiped his face with is sleeve. "Do you have what you need, Miss Gray?"

"Yes, thank you...." Snape rose and quickly left. He passed Dumbledore, who entered as Snape left. "He has the most unusual personality. I don't know what to make of him."

"Severus is a rare rose too shy to bloom," said Dumbledore.

"How poetic," said Lindsay cheerily.

"Quite." To Dumbledore, Severus was a beautifully imperfect creature. Try as he might, he just couldn't make the boy understand that love in all its myriad forms was the key to happiness and the true purpose of life. To find it, one must open oneself to another; one must trust deeply and unreservedly. Dumbledore had remarked upon the subject of love quite often over the years, but Severus had never shown any interest whatsoever in the topic. He remained silent and secretive. "You've finally managed to sketch him."

"Yes, I think I'll be able to start painting his portrait now."

"You don't mind if I put the kettle on, do you?"

"Of course not, help yourself. I'll just get tidied up over here."

"You still insist on doing things manually, I see," remarked Dumbledore, who'd opted to use magic to get the tea started.

"It's habit, I guess. I'm tactile, I need to touch things."

"Perhaps a wand might help to curb that tendency. I believe Severus has to run some errands in the morning. I wonder if he wouldn't mind taking you to Ollivander's."

"That would be nice. I love shopping trips. What is our objective for the evening, Professor?"

"Are you familiar with Occlumency?"


	20. Chapter 20

Lindsay waited by the castle's main entrance. A seventh-year boy sat next to her with his arm draped lazily across her shoulders. She sat cross legged with her hands folded over her knee. The boy was showing her a trick that was clearly intended to impress her, and she was obviously feigning an interest. Snape arrived at precisely nine a.m., just as he'd said. "Mr. Caldwell!" The boy jumped to his feet. "Ten points from Ravenclaw for inappropriate contact with a female. You'll see me this evening for your detention."

"Yes, sir." Caldwell disappeared, with great speed, in the direction of the library.

"Are you ready, Miss Gray?"

"I certainly am."

"We'll be walking to the gates."

"Are we going to Hogsmeade?"

"No." Snape didn't say another word to her until they were on the other side of the castle's gates. "Take my arm."

Lindsay did as instructed and instantly wished she hadn't. She could see nothing, but felt the sensation of rapid movement. She gripped Snape's arm tightly. She felt like her body was being compressed and expanded, like a rubber band being shot across a room. She landed heavily, but stayed on her feet. "That was unpleasant."

"That was apparition," replied Snape. He moved Lindsay to stand in front of a shop window. "Stay here. I won't be long."

Snape disappeared into the bowels of the dark shop. Lindsay peered through the dirty glass of the shop window for a moment. She stepped back and read the sign above it--"Slug & Jiggers Apothecary". Lindsay turned around to view the rest of the shops. They all appeared unwelcoming; in fact, the entire street as far as she could see was dark and dreary, not cheerful and sunny like Diagon Alley. Even the patrons that walked the avenue were very shady looking folks, most of whom appeared as though they had great secrets to hide. She had no idea where she was and wasn't the least bit nervous about it. Lindsay loved new places and new faces. As found in most localities, there were people who were poorly dressed; others who were moderately well-dressed; and still others, the least common type, were dressed in expensive fabrics. Lindsay was the only one dressed in Muggle fashion, which drew many a curious stare.

From one of the nearby shops, exited a tall handsome wizard. He was very well-dressed with black trousers, burgundy velvet frock-coat, and a double-breasted, black and silver brocade waistcoat. Lindsay thought he looked like a character out of a cheap romance novel. He had long dark-brown hair that was greying at his temples and wore a neatly trimmed beard. The wizard noticed Lindsay immediately and asked if she was lost.

"No, I'm waiting on a friend."

"With your permission, I'd like to keep you company until she returns."

The wizard moved closer. He was indeed very tall. Lindsay didn't often have to raise her head to look a man in the eyes. "That's very nice of you, but he's just in there. He won't be long."

"He? A gentleman who leaves his lady unattended?"

"She's not interested, Arkaidus."

"Severus! The young lady is with you then?"

Snape didn't answer him. He just pushed him aside, grabbed Lindsay's arm, and shoved her into the shop. He dragged her to the counter and stood her in a corner. "Don't move. Touch nothing. Speak to no one."

Lindsay found Snape's behavior bizarrely amusing and made a mental note to tell Dumbledore about it thinking he'd find it amusing too. Snape stood in front of the sales counter and spoke to an older bespectacled man standing behind it. The older wizard kept shooting glances over at Lindsay. He appeared to be very amused. He casually tilted his head in her direction. "That's quite an expense for a teacher's salary."

Snape's jaw set. He glared malevolently at the older man. Through his teeth he said, "Get it, now!" The older wizard didn't shrink away, but placidly disappeared into the back of the store. He reappeared with a small parcel, which he handed to Snape. A lascivious smile still graced his face. Snape turned from him without a word, grabbed Lindsay again, and shoved her out the door.

"Did that man just call me a hooker?" Snape didn't answer. His cheeks were a little flushed, and Lindsay thought he looked embarrassed. "At least he said I look expensive. I suppose that's a compliment of sorts. Where to now?"

"Ollivander's."

Snape led her to the more familiar and much more cheerful shopping area of Diagon Alley. They entered a quaint old shop that was stacked floor to ceiling with long thin boxes. Something about the place reminded Lindsay of a tobacco shop. They were greeted by an elderly man with large pale eyes.

"Ah, Mr. Snape, I haven't seen you since you were a teenager. Your wand is made of red oak; it's somewhat rigid and was quite handsome until you requested that I stain it black. The core is dragon heart-string from a Peruvian Vipertooth, twelve inches; a more dexterous wand than your grandfather's. Cassian Prince was the proud owner of an acacia and dragon heart-string wand, fourteen-and-quarter inches--dark, temperamental, and very unyielding. The core for that wand came from an Hungarian Horntail. The wizard that collected it died from severe burns. A more reserved wand chose your mother; walnut, nine-and-a-quarter inches, unicorn hair—a bit delicate, a near copy of her own mother's wand...."

"It is the young lady who needs your assistance, Mr. Ollivander."

"Oh, yes? And you are?"

"Lindsay Gray, Mr. Ollivander."

"An American? May I ask where you purchased your first wand? I have a very talented colleague in Salem. I admire her work very much."

"This will be my first wand, sir. I'm a late bloomer."

"Latent magic is uncommon. I have only met two whose magic developed late, and both were wizards." Ollivander peered very closely at Lindsay for a few seconds before turning to a stack of boxes. "Let's try a walnut with dragon heartstring." Lindsay took the wand that was offered to her and quickly dropped it. "Very bad core choice for you. Let's try the same with unicorn hair." This wand emitted a very offensive odor. "No, no," mumbled Ollivander. "Here we are. Let's try this, same core, made of pear wood." After twenty minutes, Snape moved to the other side of the room to sit in a chair. Two hours later, he was bouncing his knee and drumming his fingers on the arm-rest. Ollivander was flushed with excitement, and mopped his sweaty brow with an old handkerchief. Open boxes were strewn everywhere.

Judging by Snape's reaction, Lindsay surmised that it wasn't typical to take so long to find an appropriate wand. She was quickly becoming very self-conscious. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ollivander...."

Ollivander put up his hand, "Hush, hush." He tapped his chin with his index finger as he surveyed his mountain of open boxes. "Would it?" he mumbled to himself. He looked over to Lindsay and back at his stack of boxes. He disappeared into the back of his store and returned with a very dusty box. "In the days of my dear father, Gervaise Ollivander, it was common for witches and wizards to bring cores of their choosing to be fitted into wand shafts. The results were often unsatisfactory." He set the box down and gingerly opened it. "The core of this wand is a tuft of ear-hair from a very ancient and beloved house-elf. The wand was intended as a memorial, but it disliked its owner intensely and was returned. As you can see the shaft is heavily carved and ornate. This is some of my father's finest work. The shaft is cedar, very supple; thirteen inches."

"Here goes," said Lindsay as she picked up the wand. A strangely familiar feeling of warmth gently moved through her body. A burst of blue sparks shot from the wand's tip.

Ollivander clapped his hands together in unrestrained merriment. "Yes, yes, that's the one! How remarkable, a very unique wand indeed. And a cedar; I'm always honored to meet a cedar carrier."

"Not to rush you, Mr. Ollivander," said Snape, "but we are in a hurry."

"Oh, yes, that'll be twenty galleons."


	21. Chapter 21

Lindsay thanked Mr. Ollivander as Snape shoved her out the door. "We should stop for lunch, Professor."

"We can have lunch at Hogwarts."

"Is that a beauty shop? I need to go in there, Professor."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a girl and I'm vain. I'm hypnotically drawn to pretty colors, pleasant fragrances, and shiny objects."

Snape tried to hold her back, but this time she wasn't cooperating. She disappeared into the shop, leaving Snape waiting outside. He was looking more and more unpleasant by the second. Lindsay was greeted by a petite fair-haired witch with hazel-green eyes.

"Hello," said Lindsay. "I was just wondering if you had any gardenia perfume."

"I do," replied the little witch. She showed Lindsay a row of shelves lined with decorative glass bottles of varying sizes and colors. She picked up a small bottle of gardenia perfume and handed it to Lindsay.

"That's very nice. Oh, it comes in larger bottles? I'll take two."

"Would you like to try the honeysuckle, or perhaps mimosa?"

"Since I'm here, I'll try both. The mimosa's very nice. I'll take a small bottle of it." The witch next handed her a small bottle of honeysuckle perfume. "That is so accurate. Honeysuckle is usually too sweet and strong for me, but this is just like the actual plant. I'll take a bottle of it, and I must leave before I buy up the whole store." They returned to the sales counter and the witch packaged Lindsay's bottles for her. "May I ask what part of France you're from?" said Lindsay.

The witch smiled pleasantly and replied, "Bordeaux."

"I love Bordeaux," proclaimed Lindsay. "I haven't been back in years, but I enyoyed my time there. It's such a beautiful city."

Snape's arms were folded across his chest as he paced in front of the shop. He drummed his fingers on his bicep. He peered through the shop window and wondered what was taking Lindsay so long. The little witch looked beyond Lindsay to the storefront. "I can get someone to clear that wizard away for you."

"Oh, no, we're together."

The witch appeared concerned. "He seems very annoyed."

"I probably shouldn't say this, but just between us girls. He gets a bit, um, agitated when he has to wait, if you know what I mean."

The witch's eyebrows raised in genuine surprise. "You are a couple then?"

"Of a sort, I guess you could say. We're not emotionally attached. I think of him more as an instructor." The witch frowned. "Oh, we're not involved in the commercial sense, if you follow me. Well, the truth is I've led a somewhat sheltered life and haven't had time for romance, so he's helping me find my way." The witch leaned a little and looked past Lindsay to get a better look at Snape. A flush of color was rising in her cheeks. Snape saw her inspecting him and scowled. Lindsay turned with her and continued speaking. "You'd never know just by looking at him, but he's remarkably athletic. To be perfectly honest, he exhausts me. I just wish I knew someone who could help take some of the burden from me."

Convinced that they were talking about him, Snape flung open the shop door and stalked up to the sales counter. "What is taking so long?"

"Hi, Professor, we were just talking about the city of Bordeaux. This lovely lady is from there."

Snape scowled more deeply and looked at the little witch with antipathy. She was clearly interested in his company, and her welcoming smile shocked him. His eyes widened as he gazed into hers, and he swallowed hard. His whole body seemed to shrink. He grabbed Lindsay's arm and pulled her away from the counter as he backed away from it. "We're leaving, now...hurry...go!"

Lindsay thought the entire spectacle to be quite amusing. She left the shop with him, but didn't allow him to drag her away. "She likes you, Professor. Go talk to her." Snape didn't reply; he didn't even turn to face her. "You have nothing to be shy about. You're very cute. You're beyond cute, in fact, you're like cuteness cubed." Snape's eyes darted from side to side as if he were afraid someone might overhear her. He grabbed her abruptly, and they disappeared with a tiny pop. They reappeared in front of the Leaky Cauldron.

"I thought we weren't stopping for lunch."

"I changed my mind." He opened the door for her. She'd been here with McGonagall. It was a nice, charming place with friendly service. Snape motioned to an empty table in a dark corner.

"So romantic, Professor."

"Sit!" Snape tucked himself in the corner with his back to the wall. He had a good view of the entire room. His hands were shaking, which made Lindsay smile to herself.

There were two waiters seated at the bar. One was waiting for his customers' orders, the other waited for a new customer to occupy one of his tables. "Look at what just sat at table five."

"Danny, you lucky bastard, you always get the pretty ones," said the second waiter as Danny walked confidently away. Tom snickered behind the bar as he ran a towel over it. "What's so funny?"

"You didn't see who came in with her, did you, Jack?" Jack leaned and saw none other than Professor Snape scowling in the dark corner.

"Oh, I've got to see this."

"What can I get for you today?" said Danny in his most inviting tone.

"After you, you mean?" replied Lindsay with a broad toothy smile.

Danny chuckled, his eyes focused solely on Lindsay. He leaned his elbows on the table next to her. "I've never seen you in here before. You must be new to the area. I'd be happy to show you...."

"Flotsam," said Snape silkily.

Danny stood up quickly, his back rigid. He swallowed hard. The icy voice that haunted his childhood nightmares just sounded in his ears. "Professor Snape, I didn't see you there."

"That's because you didn't look, Flotsam."

"It's Flott, sir, Daniel Flott."

"We'll have the day's special. And don't spit in it, Flotsam. I will know if you do."

Danny practically ran back to the bar. Tom and Jack were laughing so hard that tears streaked their cheeks. "Thank you very much! You could've told me she was with the Greasy Git! Bastards!"

Jack wiped the tears from his eyes. "She must be his niece or something, Tom. There's no way he'd get a date that looked that good."

"Nobody in his family ever looked that good either," replied Tom. "She was in here with Minerva McGonagall. She's stayin' at Hogwarts; a guest of Dumbledore's."

###

"Your behavior was most inappropriate, Miss Gray. No wonder so many of the students follow you about."

"I don't flirt with kids, Professor. They take things too seriously. Most people realize that it's all in fun. It would do you some good to let your hair down once in a while." Snape raised an eyebrow at her and pointed at his long, lank hair. Lindsay laughed aloud. "That witch was very interested in you, Professor. I would've happily waited outside while you talked to her."

"I don't want to talk to her," growled Snape.

"Why not? You're not married, are you?"

"No, I'm not married!"

"Do you prefer men?"

"Of course not!"

"What's the problem then? You have to admit she was attractive and the French accent was fabulous. I love French people."

"I hate the French. They...smell...like croissants."

"That's the best lie you could come up with? And you're Head of Slytherin House?"

"Are you suggesting that Slytherins are liars, Miss Gray?"

"No, I'm stating outright that a cunning Slytherin should be able to come up with a believable lie when he needs to."

"I'm having an off day!"

Lindsay laughed so hard that tears filled her eyes. Snape even allowed himself a small smile. He thought how beautiful she looked as she smiled at him. His gaze was a little too focused and lingered on her a little too long. He let his façade down for only a moment. He realized his mistake and instantly regained his composure, but it was too late. Lindsay had seen the seen the way he looked at her and understood what it meant. She'd seen the lustful way he looked at her before and had no intention of entertaining him, but there was something else in his gaze that she hadn't previously noticed. "I apologize, Professor. I didn't intend to make you so uncomfortable. I promise you that I'll never do it again." He nodded, but said nothing. He did notice, however, that she didn't flirt with the waiter upon his return.

They didn't return to Hogwarts immediately after lunch as Lindsay had expected. Instead, Snape walked her around some of the shops explaining the functions of numerous magical items that she had never seen before. She hooked her arm around his, as was her habit, as they slowly strolled up and down Diagon Alley. Snape stiffened with the unaccustomed contact, but didn't pull away. It was the first time that she'd done that with him. Although he'd seen her take other people's arms, he never expected her to be so familiar with him.

Snape's companion drew the appreciative glances of many wizards as they walked along. She didn't seem to notice them looking her way. She listened to Snape, and occasionally asked a question or two. He'd never known Lindsay to be so quiet. He felt a strange sort of pride as other men gawked at her clutching his arm. An arrogant smirk appeared on his face. His eyes glittered as he picked thoughts from passersby. He knew what to expect from them; he knew what people thought of him. Some were even bold and crass enough to say it to his face, but only when he was a child. Most didn't have the courage to face Severus the man, the fully grown wizard. He was hideously ugly, and he knew it. But right now, he was the one with a beautiful woman happily clinging to his arm.

They disapparated and appeared just outside of Hogsmeade instead of at the castle's gates. Lindsay knew precisely what was going on, but said nothing. She was happy to enjoy the moment. They strolled back to the castle with Lindsay still holding his arm. She was sure that Snape had never walked this slowly in his life. He appeared more nervous now. There were no shops with curious wares that he could explain to her. After some moments of silence, he began pointing out plants to her and telling her their names and magical properties. His posture stiffened, and his tone became icy as they approached the castle.

"Here we are," he said abruptly.

Lindsay released his arm. "I had a nice time today, Professor, and thank you for lunch."

Snape nodded curtly and left for the Headmaster's office.

Lindsay returned to her rooms. She had to admit to herself that she was surprised by Snape's courteous behavior. His leering stares that she'd been politely ignoring suggested that he'd behave very differently in private and at a safe distance from Hogwarts virtually omniscient Headmaster. Much to her shock, Snape was quite gentlemanly in private company. He was old fashioned almost to the point of prudishness. Lindsay was initially quite happy to shove him off onto that very willing little witch until she noticed the change in the way he looked at her. He showed her a genuine attraction untainted with anything untoward, and that deserved to be treated with respect.

###

Dumbledore was standing at a long table covered with variously sized silver mechanisms, all of which were performing academic duties; some were moving, some were lighting up, and some were filled with colored bubbling liquids. The Headmaster was tinkering with a newly acquired instrument when Snape entered and handed him the magazines he'd requested.

"You're much later than expected, Severus."

"The young lady showed interest in some lesser known magical wares. I indulged her curiosity."

"The young lady," repeated Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "Hmm, I recall you referring to her as a girl not so very long ago. What was it you said? Ah, yes, 'the girl performs adequately'".

"A turn of phrase, Headmaster," replied Snape firmly.

"If you insist." Dumbledore moved to a cozy pair of chairs with a small table set between them. "Come and sit, Severus. We have important issues to discuss before dinner."


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is still in draft form and will likely have some canon-compliancy issues that'll need to be worked out at a later date. Also, since I've done very little editing, there will be mistakes here and there. If the mistakes are too unbearable, tell me about it in a review. (:

The rest of Lindsay's first year at Hogwarts' passed uneventfully. She went home for Christmas break and returned inconspicuously to her studies after the holidays. All of her teachers followed a strict fast-paced curriculum except for Dumbledore, whose lessons seemed to jump from topic to topic. Oddly, Lindsay seemed to grasp the material better when it was presented in a haphazard fashion. Her nervousness sometimes got the better of her when she knew what was coming. The novelty of her presence wore off most of the students, and she became just another face in the crowd to many of them. Lindsay's school year ended at the beginning of the rest of the student body's Easter break.

Back at home, Lindsay found herself longing for the noise and companionship at Hogwarts. She quickly resumed her habit of spending as little time at home as possible.

Immediately after tem ended, Lindsay received a letter from Fred and George inviting her to meet their family. She accepted immediately and found herself dressing for dinner at the Weasley home that very evening. She waited nervously in front of the fireplace in her dining room. She'd never traveled via Floo before so the twins offered to fetch her. Fred was the first to exit the fireplace and Lindsay practically flung herself at him. Fred returned her embrace and declared to George, "I told you I was her favorite."

"In your dreams," replied George as he wrapped his arms around Lindsay and planted a friendly kiss on her cheek. "Don't tell me you're nervous about meeting Mum and Dad?"

"No, of course not," replied Lin. "I'm just happy to see you, and I hate being in this big empty house by myself."

"Mum's still whipping up a masterpiece," said Fred. "We've got time for a tour if you're in the mood."

"Yes, of course," replied Lin. She led them into each room and described in detail the repairs that had been done and which rooms were still awaiting renovation. The twins showed great interest in the patio area and large swimming pool. She left the cellar for last and only took them down there to ask them to choose a gift for their parents from the collection of alcoholic beverages that were stored there. She led the twins directly into two large, climate-controlled, adjoining rooms; one contained a great assortment of wines and meads, and the other was filled with variously sized casks of ale.

"You've got a lot of booze for a non-drinker," declared George as he scooped up three bottles of wine, one red, one white, and a blush.

"It came with house," replied Lin. "The former owner was a collector."

"And you kept it?" said George.

"It belonged to Mr. Roberts. It was important to him, so it's important to me." George smiled and nodded, and declined further commentary out of respect for Lin's feelings. He knew how fond she was of Mr. Roberts as she'd spoken of him once or twice before.

Fred wasted no time shifting the subject a little. He picked up a small cask of Belgian ale. "This is all Muggle stuff? Dad will love it."

"Oh, I hope so," said Lindsay. "I have no idea what to get them, and it was such short notice."

"You don't have to give them anything," said Fred. "Mum and Dad are happy with good company."

The party of three trundled back upstairs laden with spirits and stopped in front of the dining room fireplace. George shifted the wine bottles to one arm and threw in some Floo powder. Fred entered first, carrying the unwieldy cask of ale. George's free hand grasped Lin's. "Ready?"

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be." She gripped George's hand tightly and kept her elbows close to her sides as she entered the emerald-green flames. George declared "the Burrow" quite clearly and Lindsay felt herself being propelled at an astonishing rate of speed. She glimpsed images of unfamiliar rooms zooming past her eyes until she and George's travel came to an abrupt stop.

"Ladies first," said George and Lindsay stepped out of the fireplace into a large, warm, and welcoming kitchen. Numerous mouth-watering aromas filled the air and the table was half-filled with plates and bowls overflowing with components of the evening's meal. An assortment of homemade desserts and confections graced the countertops. Mrs. Weasley was the first to catch Lindsay's hand, shaking it vigorously.

"Hello, dear, I'm Molly."

"Lovely to meet you, I'm Lindsay."

A tall red-haired man rose from the table and took Lindsay's hand. Lindsay recognized him immediately. "I'm Arthur."

"I remember you," said Lindsay. "You helped me change a tire. You must be the one who told Dumbledore about me."

"Guilty as charged," replied Arthur.

Fred had just placed the ale cask on the table when Arthur stopped him and demanded that he empty his pockets. Fred pulled a small bottle of mead from each trouser pocket and set them on the table. George had moved past Lindsay and set the bottles of wine he was carrying on the table next to the ale. He turned quietly in a failed attempt to exit the kitchen without being noticed.

"Pockets, George," said Arthur and George also pulled out two small bottles of mead from his trouser pockets and set them on the table.

"That was my idea," piped Lindsay. "I thought you and Molly might like some Muggles beverages."

"How very thoughtful of you, dear," said Molly as she patted Lindsay's hand. "I thought we might have dinner in the garden. How does that sound?"

"It sounds lovely," said Lindsay.

"Wonderful, I'll get the table set," said Arthur cheerfully. "Fred, George, go de-gnome the garden."

"We did that this morning," replied Fred.

"Do it again," said Molly sternly.

"Would you care to join us," said George, offering his arm to Lindsay. Molly was about to launch a protest when Lindsay pleasantly accepted. Fred and George led her outside.

"Well, here it is," said Fred, "the family vegetable patch. I hope it's everything you were expecting it to be."

"It's beautiful," said Lindsay. The garden was sprawling and chaotic. It was full of life and color, and was obviously tended to regularly. Ornamental plants were mixed haphazardly with vegetables giving the entire garden a somewhat wild and pleasingly rambling feel. The culinary herbs that Molly used were closest to the house, and their place was the neatest part of the garden.

"Over here," whispered George. He leaned over a clump of overgrown weeds, which he parted when Lindsay stood next to him. She bent over and peered into the shadow overgrowth. She saw movement and looked at George, who put his finger to his lips to silence her. Seconds later a couple of large potatoes floated by and disappeared farther into the garden. George began to laugh and Lindsay thought he'd charmed some actual potatoes to prank her. Fred joined them and began to whistle. The potatoes reappeared, and Lindsay realized that they were actually the heads of creatures with full bodies and moving limbs.

"These are garden gnomes," said George. Lindsay reached out a hand to touch one, but George caught it. "They've got a nasty bite."

"They're so ugly, they're cute," said Lindsay.

"Aw," said Fred as he gently bumped his shoulder into hers. "Is that what you tell Snape when he wants a cuddle?"

Lindsay rolled her eyes. The Snape jokes were getting old. "You're really pushing it, Fred."

He shrugged his shoulders. "It's what I do." Fred straightened up. "Now stand back and George and I will show you how to properly de-gnome a garden."

She stepped back and watched as the twins each grabbed a gnome, swung them around, and flung them over a hedge. Behind her, Arthur had collected a couple of mismatched wooden tables and draped tablecloths over them. Around the tables sat a large grouping of mismatched chairs. A third table would be used as a buffet setting.

Molly announced that dinner was ready and exited the house with a large grouping of steaming plates and bowls. The rest of the Weasley clan appeared and the meal formally began. Fred and George sat on either side of Lindsay and were piling food onto her plate. Conversation was as plentiful as the confections Molly had prepared, and the mood was cheerful. By the time dessert had passed, the conversation had changed from general information about each other to stories of the First Wizarding War.

It was late in the evening when Lindsay returned home. There were two letters waiting for her; one from Remus stating that he'd visit at the weekend with a friend, and one from Neville saying that he and Professor Sprout would begin work on the garden the following week.


	23. Chapter 23

Severus packed up his meager belongings in an ancient leather satchel that he shrunk and stuffed into an interior pocket of his robes. It was nearly nightfall. All the teachers who left Hogwarts in the summer months had already gone. Severus preferred to offer them his goodbyes, and then leave on his own. It was important to keep up a friendly façade for the benefit of his colleagues, but he didn't have to actually be friends with them. It was better for him to only appear somewhat friendly because he had another side, another group of people, to please. Severus teetered on a knife's edge. Even he was unsure how he managed to keep his balance.

He strode quickly and silently to the school gates. Filch was already there waiting for him. There were other, easier methods of travel, but Severus had a reason for everything he did. He always left at the same time, and in the same place, and always used the same method of travel. An appearance of predictability helped him maintain trust–on both sides. Filch unlocked and opened the gate, and offered a farewell that Severus barely acknowledged. Filch could not be trusted and had to be kept in his place. But he was a good source of information regarding the students, so Severus let Filch think that he was valuable to him. Filch was too easy to manipulate.

Severus disappeared with a barely audible pop and reappeared in a dirty derelict alley across the street from his parents' hovel. The house and the abandoned houses around it were heavily warded. He could apparate directly into his parents' house if he wanted, but rarely did. He'd made many enemies in his youth and preferred to watch the house before entering it. He stood in the rain for nearly an hour before apparating into the sitting room; his wand was drawn. Nothing appeared to have been disturbed. Even the air was stale and unpleasantly familiar. His books were all where they should be, and still had an undisturbed layer of dust on them. His mother's knick-knacks were also undisturbed. Severus' mother was a clever witch. The most innocuous items could be lethal if mishandled. She'd been dead for many year, but many of her booby-traps were still functional and some were deadly.

He stepped through the dusty little sitting room to a tiny hallway that separated the second-floor staircase from the first-floor rooms and the front door. He ascended the stairs to his childhood bedroom. He didn't sleep in there any longer, but the room was still his. He refused to enter his parents' former bedroom. The rats could have it. He descended the stairs and sat in his favorite chair in the sitting room, the one with the best view of the room, and pulled out a tattered old book from his pocket and read until he fell asleep.

The small amount of morning sunlight shining through the grimy kitchen window was enough to rouse him. Severus was a light sleeper by nature, but he rarely slept fitfully in the hovel. He stood and rubbed his sore neck. It was time to be a Muggle again.

He returned to his childhood bedroom and opened the creaky closet door. On the floor, under the lowest shelf, were some loose boards. Severus knelt and silently waved his wand over them. The boards floated up and away from the hole and settled on the floor next to his knee. He reached in and removed two parcels; one was a small burlap sack, and the other was a rolled piece of old canvas. He sat on the squeaky bed, parcels in hand, and set the burlap sack to one side. He gently laid the rolled canvas down in front of him and lightly ran his fingers over it. He gingerly, almost lovingly, unrolled the bit of canvas and revealed an old child-sized overcoat that had seen much better days. Severus ran his fingers over it and smiled.

###

Severus and Lily sat on the cool grass in the shade of a large tree in the local park. Lily was chattering excitedly about leaving for Hogwarts in September, and was telling Severus all the things her parents had been collecting for her. He'd received nothing from his parents, except his mother's old textbooks, which he'd already read several times and had written annotations in the margins of because parchment was scarce. But Severus wasn't jealous of Lily. She was happy and that made him happy. His coal-black eyes caressed her beautiful face and lingered on her lovely white smile before shooting back up to her emerald-green eyes.

"Do you have your uniforms yet, Sev?"

"Yes."

Lily cocked her head and frowned. "Sev?"

"Mum sold her old uniforms and took me to the secondhand shop."

Lily looked stunned. "She's not making you wear her old uniforms? You can tell me, Sev. I won't make fun."

"Mum had loads of school clothes that she'd kept. She said she'd been saving them so she could buy me my own school stuff. She bought me boy's clothes–honestly, Lily. Two sets of robes just for me."

Lily's lips pursed and she was clearly trying to hold back her temper. "Only two? And I suppose she bought gin with the rest of the money?" Severus turned away and Lily silently cursed her brash temper. She forced herself to be calm before continuing. "Did she get you cold weather things? And what about shoes? You really need new ones."

Severus didn't turn back to her. He sat with his knees under his chin and his dirty bare feet crossed, one on top of the other. He'd taken his shoes off because they hurt his feet. They were so small that they forced his toes to curl. He'd had them for ages and since he rarely washed his feet, they'd become quite malodorous. Severus had grown accustomed to the smell, and Lily was always too polite to mention anything.

"I've got some old quills from Mum and her leather satchel," replied Severus. "And she said I could have one of her cauldrons. So that just leaves parchment and ink."

"And a wand," said Lily.

"Yeah."

Lily's sister Petunia sprang out of the shrubbery behind Severus and grabbed his shoes. She pinched her nose with one hand and flung his shoes into the nearby dirty river with the other. "Ugh, the smell from these is sickening!"

Severus jumped to his feet and ran to the water's edge. His shoes were so far out into the water that he'd risk wetting his head, so he stopped.

"How could you, Tuney?" shouted Lily. She shoved Petunia's shoulder as she ran past and jumped into the water without hesitation, retrieving both shoes. Lily set Severus' shoes in the sun to dry, which only made them smell worse. Lily was so angry that she ignored her drenched clothes and rounded on Petunia. "Why would you do such a mean thing to Severus?" shouted Lily.

Petunia, intimidated by her sister's flaring temper, tried to backpedal and stammered out a ridiculous excuse. "I...I thought the water would clean them."

"They're the only shoes Sev has!" proclaimed Lily.

"Maybe if his dad would leave the pub and get a job, he'd be able to buy him new shoes," spat Petunia.

"Why are you always so mean to Sev, Tuney?" said Lily, whose temper was turning to sadness and bewilderment.

"Why do you always take his side over mine?" replied Petunia spitefully.

"I don't, Tuney," said Lily with obvious distress in her voice.

"You do!" spat Petunia. She realized that she was gaining the upper hand with her soft-hearted sister and turned her back on Lily to punctuate her displeasure. The action worked. Lily moved to look in Petunia's eyes, but Petunia kept moving away. Lily began to plead with her.

"Please, Tuney, don't turn away. I love you. You're my only sister."

Severus said nothing because he feared retaliation from Lily. He'd learned not to get involved in a fight between the sisters. He'd wait until Petunia was gone and then work on earning Lily's favor. The sisters waffled between bickering and Lily begging for Petunia to forgive her. Petunia realized that it was nearing dinner time and ordered Lily to come home with her. Lily, in a moment of defiance, grabbed Sev's hand and pulled him along with her. He pulled back. He'd never accepted an invitation to enter the Evans' home, and he wasn't about to give in this time either.

"Have dinner with us, Sev," said Lily.

"No," replied Severus.

"Mummy and Daddy won't mind." Lily was on a quest and wouldn't take no for an answer. Her parents knew about Severus' circumstances, but were never in his company. Lily knew that if her parents saw how dire his situation was, they'd help him in whatever way they could. Severus finally relented for two reasons; to please Lily and to annoy Petunia. He donned his smelly too-tight shoes and followed the girls home.

The odor of the filthy river clung to Lily's dress and hair as she walked home, and Petunia made continual references to it, stating that Lily smelled just like Snape. Petunia stopped just as she reached for the knob on the front door and turned around to face Lily. She felt overcome with a feeling of superiority and declared, "I'm telling Mummy how you ruined your new dress."

The threat angered Lily and she replied with, "Fine, Tuney, and I'll tell her what you did to Sev's shoes."

"What's this about shoes?" said Mr. Evans from behind them. He'd come home early with a bucket of freshly caught fish for dinner. Severus wanted to run, but Lily held his hand tightly. He went pale, paler than usual, when Mr. Evans smiled at him. He looked at the ground, his dirty hair covering his face.

"Tuney threw Sev's shoes into the river. They're the only ones he has." Severus was embarrassed and began to shift his feet. "Sev can't swim so I went in the water to get them."

"And she ruined the new dress Mummy made for her," shot Petunia in the hopes of swaying her father's favor in her direction. The ploy didn't work.

Mr. Evans looked at the dirty too-small shoes on the boy's feet, the dirty ragged clothes hanging off his undersized and underfed body, and he flushed with temper at the cruelty of his eldest child. John Evans was an even-tempered man not prone to anger, but he could be a heavy-handed disciplinarian when the situation warranted it. He took his pipe out of his mouth and addressed Petunia. "Did you throw the boy's shoes in the river?"

"I thought it would clean them–"

"Don't lie to me, Petunia."

Petunia dropped her gaze and said, "Yes, Daddy, I threw his shoes in the river."

Mr. Evans handed the bucket of fish to Petunia. "You'll be helping your mother clean these." Petunia cringed. "And you apologize to this boy."

As disgusting as it was, Petunia could manage preparing fish for dinner, but apologizing to Severus Snape was too much to ask. She looked between Snape and her father several times.

Mr. Evans' voice finally showed some irritation. "I'm waiting, Petunia."

"I'm sorry, Severus," said Petunia as sweetly as she could manage, but her eyes were burning with hated and humiliation.

"Right," said Mr. Evans, "inside, all of you. And I'll be having a talk with you later, Petunia." Lily dragged Severus into the house to a cheerful cozy little sitting room. The house was filled with the smell of apple pie baking in the kitchen. Mrs. Evans was darning socks. "We've got a guest for dinner, Faye," said Mr. Evans as his wife raised her eyes from her work. Severus saw the same emerald eyes that Lily had and a head of dark-red hair mixed with copious amounts of grey. Mrs. Evans smiled briefly at her husband then her eyes settled on Lily and the state of her new dress.

"Lily's had a mishap," said Mr. Evans and his wife knew by his expression that they'd be having a serious discussion later in the evening. He laid his hand on Lily's shoulder. "Go and wash up, love." Lily ran off in the direction of her bedroom. Petunia was already in the kitchen.

Mrs. Evans sat her sewing in her lap and reached out to take Severus' grubby hands in hers. His head was still tilted to the floor. He was so nervous that his body shook. "What's your name?" said Mrs. Evans.

Severus tried to answer, but he was so nervous that no sound came out of his mouth. Mr. Evans lightly touched the back of Severus' shoulder with his index finger. "Go on, lad," he said kindly.

Severus jumped as though he'd been stabbed with a hot poker and said loudly, "Severus."

Mrs. Evans let go of the boy's hands and parted his greasy black hair revealing a pale and careworn face. She smiled at him, cupping his thin face in her gentle hands. Her expression was much like Lily's had been when he'd first met her, except that there was a more maternal quality to Mrs. Evans' expression. "That's a very handsome name," said Mrs. Evans, "a handsome name for a handsome boy." Severus' expression hardened and it startled Mrs. Evans. She was teasing him, Severus was sure of it. He may not be an official Hogwarts student yet, but he was no fool. He knew when he was being made fun of. His black eyes glared into Mrs. Evans' green ones, but he said nothing; not that he had to, his expression said it for him. She let go of his face. "John, why don't you take Severus into the kitchen to wash up?"


	24. Chapter 24

"Come along, lad," replied Mr. Evans cheerfully. Severus' eyes widened. He was going to be punished. He wasn't sure what he'd done, but he must've done something. Maybe Mrs. Evans was secretly a Legilimens and saw his thoughts. Mr. Evans placed his hand on Severus' shoulder and gently pushed him into the kitchen. Petunia had laid out all of the necessary items to prepare dinner, but hadn't started cleaning the fish. She was waiting for her mother to join her. Mr. Evans removed his pipe from his mouth and handed it to Petunia. "Take care of that for me, would you?" He stood Severus in front of the sink, then rolled up the sleeves of work shirt. He turned on the faucet and Severus felt himself go cold.

###

One of Tobias Snape's favorite punishments for his unusual son was to dunk the boy's head in a sink or bathtub full of water. A few years ago, before he'd met Lily, Severus had caught a chest cold and couldn't stop coughing. Tobias was lying in a warm bath trying to overcome a bad hangover. "Eileen!' shouted Tobias, his hands pressed against his head in a failed attempt to ease his headache. "Shut him up!"

"What do you expect me to do?" replied Eileen, her silky smooth voice dripping with scorn. "You won't let me brew any potions."

Tobias rose out of the bath, flung the door open and backhanded his defiant wife. "I'll not have any o' that witchcraft in my home," spat Tobias.

"As you like," replied Eileen silkily, a bruise already forming on her pale cheek. A small-framed thin woman, Eileen Snape appeared as physically frail as her more attractive mother, but her body was stronger than it appeared. She'd inherited her small bone structure from her mother, but resembled her father. She'd inherited her mother's intelligence, but not her father's magical ability nor his strength of will. Her father was both feared and revered for his magical strength, his cunning audacity, and his determination. Her mother was admired for her beauty, good breeding, and intelligence. Eileen was so overshadowed by her parents that she was barely noticeable.

Tobias reeled. He planted his hand on the wall to steady himself and vomited on the hallway floor. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Clean that." He staggered to the bathroom door when Severus began coughing again. Tobias, overcome with rage, stomped into his son's bedroom and yanked Severus off his bed by his ankles. The position in which he was held made his cough worse, and the suddenness of his father's actions frightened Severus. He began to choke. Tobias stomped back into the bathroom and began dunking Severus' head in the bath. Another wave of sickness hit Tobias and he fell forward catching himself by placing a hand on the wall. His other hand held Severus tightly and pushed his little body under the water.

Severus remembered choking and trying to hold his breath under the water. He remembered seeing air bubbles rising to the water's surface, and seeing his feet held in air. His father was shouting things, but the water muffled the sound. Severus beat the sides of the tub with his fists as he tried to push himself above the water, but his father held him fast. Soon Severus' own heartbeat was the only sound he could hear. His lungs ached and his chest burned.

The next thing Severus recalled was opening his eyes to see his mother leaning over him. She immediately turned him on his side as he coughed up water and phlegm. He was lying on his mother's work table. An assortment of cauldrons and potion-making supplies surrounded him. She held her wand in her hand. Severus fixated on it because his mother rarely used her wand. She normally kept it hidden where Tobias couldn't find it, fearing he'd break it in a drunken rage.

Tobias was pacing the edge of the room. "He's alright then? He'll be alright?"

"He'll live," replied Eileen.

"Right then," said Tobias as he nervously rubbed his chin. He patted Severus' leg and said, "There's a good lad." He left the room and Severus passed out.

###

Mr. Evans took Severus' hands and held them under the water. He reached for a light-green cake of soap that smelled like pine trees. He lathered up the soap in his hands, set the cake down, and reached for Severus' hands again. He washed Severus' hands as he washed his own. The soap lather felt good. Mr. Evans' calloused hands felt good too. He rinsed the soap from their hands and let Severus step back from the sink. Severus sighed in relief and was about to dry his hands on his filthy shirt when Mr. Evans grabbed them in a kitchen towel and dried them. He pulled a chair away from the kitchen table and Severus sat. Mr. Evans poured a small glass of milk and set it in front of him. Severus drank it like it was the first meal he'd had in days, which wasn't very far from the truth.

Mrs. Evans entered and immediately set about preparing dinner with Petunia scowling at her side. Lily entered moments later. She smiled at Severus, which relaxed him a little. "Can I help, Mummy?"

"You can set the table, if you like."

Lily set out plates and cutlery on the little round kitchen table. None of the plates matched and some had chips in them, but they were clean. The cutlery didn't match either, but Severus didn't care at all about matching dishes, or matching forks, or even about cleanliness. He was hungry, and if he was quiet and very still, he might get a hot meal tonight.

"Um...Daddy?" began Lily and Severus' heart sank. If she said too much, Severus might get thrown out before he had a chance to eat anything. "We forgot to ask Sev's mum if he could stay."

Mrs. Evans turned and nodded at her husband. "I'll go 'round," he said and rose from the table and left. Severus didn't know what to do. Lily winked at him before she went into another room to fetch a chair for Petunia because the table was meant for only four settings.

###

John Evans didn't frequent this part of the neighborhood, but he knew where Tobias Snape lived. The man was infamous in their town; a petty thief, a braggart, and an unpredictably violent drunk. There were a few men like Snape around, but he was at the top of the unsavory heap. Most of the local occupants stepped out of Snape's way. John Evans never looked for a fight, but wasn't one to back down from one either. It would be a cold day in Hell when he'd fear a wife-beating, child-abusing drunk. Evans feared no man, but he was no chump either. He knew that Snape wasn't just a loud-mouth shouting empty threats. The man could handle himself, and had proved his street-fighting prowess many times. Snape was a much larger man than Evans, stronger too. They were close in height, with Evans having a slight advantage, but Snape was very solidly built. Evans was wiry; speed and wit were his best defenses.

Evans knocked on Snape's door and stepped back. Seconds later the door opened just a crack, and a sliver of a small woman peered out at him. "Mrs. Snape?" The woman's eyes narrowed, but she didn't answer. "I'm John Evans. My daughter, Lily, is friendly with your son–"

Eileen flung the door open. She was clearly drunk. "What's he done?" she said sharply.

"Er...nothing, I just wanted to ask if he could have dinner with my family."

Eileen was flabbergasted. What would a grown man want with her son? Surely a pervert wouldn't come to her door and ask for access to her child. Her Legilimency skills were weak, but good enough for an unsuspecting Muggle. Her black eyes glittered as she looked into John's large hazel eyes. "Dinner?"

"Yes," replied John. He'd developed a sudden headache and absentmindedly rubbed his temple.

"Anything else?"

Such a peculiar question, John wasn't sure how to answer it. "Uh, well, I take my girls apple-picking before school starts. I'd like to take Severus too if you wouldn't mind him staying for the weekend."

"Fine," said Eileen as she turned away and began to close the door.

"When do you want him back?" shouted John.

"Whenever," replied Eileen from behind the closed door. John shook his head and started for home.

###

Severus sat impatiently at the table. The apple pie was cooling on the window sill and dinner was well under way. Lily was chattering to him about school and Petunia was shooting hostile looks at both of them, but Severus couldn't concentrate on anything except his empty growling belly. He jumped when Mr. Evans returned.

"You're just in time, John," declared Mrs. Evans as she began filling plates with fried fish, chips, and peas and carrots. A simple meal, but the best one Severus had ever seen. "Any trouble?"

"No," said Mr. Evans. "I spoke to your mum, Severus. She said you can stay the weekend if you like."

"That'll be great, Sev!" proclaimed Lily. "You can come pick apples with us."

"But that's for us, Daddy!" cried Petunia. "Only for us!"

"Petunia!" said Mrs. Evans. Her tone was sharp and her expression severe. Petunia was instantly silenced.

"Well, Sev?" said Lily. Severus was too busy shoveling peas and carrots into his mouth to care about anything. If he stayed, he'd likely get more food so he nodded his head in assent. Lily was ecstatic. Severus cleaned his plate before anyone else was even half done. Mr. and Mrs. Evans both declared that they'd taken too much and scraped a little off their plates onto Severus'. He'd eaten so much that his belly hurt, but it was worth the discomfort.

Mrs. Evans shooed the children into the sitting room when they were finished eating. Severus could hear the adults talking softly, but Lily and Petunia's bickering made it impossible to follow the conversation. The discomfort in Severus' stomach was turning into nausea. Lily noticed it almost immediately.

"Sev, are you sick?" He placed his hand over his mouth and nodded vigorously. She took his arm and quickly led him into the bathroom where he promptly vomited half his dinner into the toilet. He stood just as Mrs. Evans rushed in. Petunia had fetched both her parents. Mrs. Evans reached for him, and Severus thought she was going to hit him, but she just felt his head.

"His head feels cool, John," declared Mrs. Evans with some alarm. She turned to her husband who was standing in the doorway, but wasn't able to reach him because her daughters were crowding the snall room. "Move along, girls. Severus needs privacy." As the two girls retreated, she said, "You help him get washed, and I'll get him something to wear." Mrs. Evans left the room and Mr. Evans shut the door behind him as he entered. Severus was plastered against the wall, afraid to move. He thought for sure that he'd be beaten for wasting food.

Mr. Evans took a step forward, but didn't reach for Severus. Instead, he turned to fill the bath. "Take your things off so Mrs. Evans can wash them. I won't look 'til you're in the bath." Severus did as he was told as quickly as possible. He stepped into the bath and drew his knees tightly under his chin. Mrs. Evans knocked and her husband passed Severus' dirty things out to her and set the clean shirt she'd given him on the sink. He turned and kneeled next to the bath. Severus was fighting back tears. It was very bad to cry, but sometimes Severus just couldn't help himself.

"Pass the soap, lad." Severus reached for the nearest cake of soap, which was pink, and handed it to Mr. Evans who smiled. "That one's for the ladies of the house. Pass me the green one. That's a proper soap for lads." Mr. Evans wet the cake of soap and rubbed it into Severus' hair. He used a cup from the sink to rinse off the soap. Mr. Evans took the washcloth in hand and dunked it in the bathwater before wrapping it around the cake of soap. He washed Severus' face and upper body, and then he washed his feet up to his knees. He handed the cloth to Severus to finish and turned away. Severus washed quickly and improperly.

Mr. Evans unfolded a large fluffy towel and held it for Severus. He rose from the dirty bathwater. Mr. Evans wrapped the towel around him and lifted him out of the bath. Severus was shocked by the action and didn't know how to respond. He remained quiet and still while Mr. Evans briskly rubbed the soft towel against his wet skin. He stopped abruptly and reached for the folded white undershirt that Mrs. Evans had passed through the door earlier, unfolded it with one hand, and told Severus to reach his arms up so he could slip the shirt over his head. It felt soft on Severus' skin, and it smelled good too.

Severus felt himself being hoisted into the air; the wet towel lay in a heap on the floor. Mr. Evans carried him back into the sitting room. Lily smiled up at him, but she had a worried look in her eyes; the same look her mother had. Petunia glared at him hatefully, and Severus scowled at her. Mr. Evans gently deposited him in a cozy armchair. Before he could move a single muscle, Mrs. Evans tucked a thick soft blanket around him, making sure to cover his bare feet. A hot cup of tea sat steaming on a small table next to him. Mrs. Evans felt his head again and declared with a relieved sigh, "No fever." She bustled out of the room and returned with another, much smaller, towel and a comb. She placed the towel around Severus' shoulders and proceeded to comb his wet hair. Severus thought these Muggles to be the strangest people he'd ever met.

The rest of the evening was spent watching television programs. Severus had only ever seen television from outside other people's homes, usually when he was sifting through trash looking for edible or usable items that his neighbors had thrown away. Mrs. Evans disappeared into the bathroom carrying a bucket of hot water to scrub the layer of body soil that Severus had left in the tub.

Immediately after finishing his cup of tea, he was presented with another; this time with a pile of biscuits. The girls received a small glass of milk and biscuits as their bedtime snack. Petunia complained about not having any apple pie. Mrs. Evans replied that Severus was too ill to have pie, so no one else was going to be rude and eat it in front of him. Petunia fell silent. Once Mrs. Evans was satisfied that he could hold down solid food, she presented him with a glass of milk and a light sandwich. When he was finished eating, Mr. Evans deposited him on the couch where he spent the night, a big fluffy blanket wrapped around him and a soft pillow under his head.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder; Severus is still lost in childhood memories.

Severus was awakened early in the morning by Mrs. Evans bustling about the kitchen and humming softly. A freshly shaven Mr. Evans appeared moments later. When he realized that Severus was awake, he escorted him back to the bathroom.

"Get washed up now, lad. You won't get a chance once the girls wake up." Mr. Evans closed the door as he left the room. Severus had no idea what was left to wash. He'd done everything the night before. His clothes had been laundered and were neatly folded and sitting on the edge of the sink. He quickly donned his underclothes. His too-short jeans that had been creeping up his calves had been cut and hemmed to just above his knees. The discarded trouser legs were used to patch holes. The blue blouse that his mother had given him was altered to look more like a boy's shirt. Mrs. Evans must've been awake half the night washing and sewing his clothes. A knock on the door brought him back to reality. He threw the shirt over his head and exited the bathroom. The unwelcome countenance of Petunia met him on the other side of the door. She shoved past him and slammed the door.

Severus proceeded to the kitchen hoping to see Lily, and hoping to get some breakfast. He was invited to sit by Mrs. Evans who, once again, felt his head. Severus disliked the contact, but tolerated it for the sake of a full breakfast. A bleary-eyed but fully dressed Lily entered the kitchen and Severus' scowl softened into a friendly smile. She sat next to him, leaving the odd chair for Petunia. Breakfast consisted of sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and sliced fresh tomatoes. Severus cleaned his plate.

Picking apples was the day's objective, and they would be walking to their destination because Mr. Evans didn't own a car. Severus was presented with an old pair of white tennis shoes that had belonged to Mr. Evans. They were too large, but not as cumbersome as they could've been. Mr. Evans was a slightly built man with small feet. If Severus could catch his mother in a good mood, he might be able to convince her to charm the shoes for him. He'd do it himself if he could. He knew he spell, but he didn't have a wand. Mrs. Evans stuffed socks into the shoes to make them fit better, and gave Severus a pair to wear. He hadn't worn socks in years; not since his old pair fell apart. That was back when his shoes fit his feet.

Mrs. Evans packed a large paper sack with sandwiches and handed it to Lily. She kissed each child on the cheek before letting them outside. They waited for Mr. Evans to emerge from the garden shed. He appeared with a barrow laden with empty buckets just as an elderly neighbor emerged from his home with fishing rods in one arm and a tackle box in the other. The small frail man was escorted by his more robust wife. They exchanged pleasantries with Mr. Evans before the old man seated himself in the barrow. The children were left to carry the buckets. The old man, whose name was Sutherby, had a sickly hacking cough. Petunia walked barefoot the entire way. It was her punishment for ruining Severus' shoes. She walked alongside the road in the soft grass to protect her tender feet. She carried her shoes in one of the buckets. Lily chattered away to all and kept stealing admiring glances at Severus' hair that was shining a handsome blue-black in the morning sun.

They eventually arrived at a sprawling country estate. Both Sutherby and Mr. Evans worked there as handymen. The manor house was very old and very large and had seen much better days. The current owner, an elderly man himself, was a cheerful charitable soul who encouraged his employees to bring their families to work with them as he very much enjoyed watching children play in the gardens. The estate was still a working farm with stocked fish ponds and tended orchards. There was enough income to keep the estate running, but not enough to keep up repairs on the enormous crumbling manor. Many years later, after the death of the current owner's son, Severus would mourn the loss of the estate and curse the developers who cut down the orchards and filled in the ponds to build modern flats and a shopping mall.

Sutherby was deposited at the pond that was nearest to the apple orchard. He immediately began setting up the fishing rods. Severus deduced that fishing was his primary occupation, and doubted that he was able to do much handiwork given his frail appearance. Lily and petunia ran to Sutherby's side to offer aide. Severus was surprised by Petunia; she seemed to genuinely enjoy helping the elderly man.

Mr. Evans stretched his tired arms. He waited for the girls to finish with Sutherby before they set about picking apples. One at a time, each child was placed atop his shoulders to reach the higher fruit. Severus thought the activity was going to be tedious, but it turned out to be quite fun despite Petunia's presence.

##

Faye Evans fixed her hair and checked it one last time in the bathroom mirror before running her errands. She first stopped for groceries and then for sewing supplies. A large bin of dark-blue yarn was on sale and she picked up a few skeins, enough to knit a hat, scarf, and a pair of mittens for Severus. She had very little money to spare and watched her purse carefully. John and Faye had planned every last penny for the girl's school supplies and there just wasn't enough left over for Severus. John said he'd find a way to make up the difference. Faye smiled to herself. She'd found such a good man in John; she was blessed. John worked hard and never complained. He was a good provider, but he didn't make very much. No one in their town made very much because work was scarce. She and John were fortunate.

She next bought underclothes and socks for Severus. She really didn't have the money to spare, but he needed them so badly. His underpants were much too small, and Faye feared the boy would be damaged by the constriction. She browsed a second-hand shop and found a barely worn a pair of winter boots that should fit Severus. Faye had spent all her money, but she wasn't above rummaging through a skip or two. She found a little boy's winter coat. It needed cleaning and patching, but should do Severus for the coming winter. He might get two years use out of it if he didn't grow much.

Faye hummed cheerfully during her long walk home. Her foldable shopping cart rolled squeakily behind her. A rough-looking, thickly built man was leaning against the front of her house when she arrived home. Her neighbor, Mrs. Sutherby, was nervously peering out her window at him. The man wore a cap pulled low on his face, but Faye knew who he was as soon as he raised his head. His large hooked nose gave his identity away. Tobias Snape offered no greeting. He wasn't one to waste time on idle pleasantries.

"Where's my boy?"

"He's with my husband," replied Faye curtly.

Tobias straightened up and moved to stand over Faye. "And what does your husband want with my son?"

Faye gathered herself up and looked up into Tobias' grey eyes. "To be the father that you're not!" Tobias' lip curled, and he lifted his balled fist. "Don't even think it!" spat Faye. "If you want a fight, then you come 'round when my John is home!" Faye heard a sudden crack and Tobias leaned forward a little. Mrs. Sutherby had come out of her house and broke a broomstick across Snape's back.

Tobias grinned and tipped his hat as he stepped away. "Ladies."

Hours later, John returned with Sutherby in the wheelbarrow and the children laden with buckets full of apples and fish. Their little arms were aching from their burdens, but they were all in good spirits. Lily and Petunia sang songs all the way home. Faye came to the door and instructed the children to help Mrs. Sutherby clean her fish. John immediately noticed that something was wrong, but waited until the children were inside before speaking.

"What's happened, Faye?"

"Snape was 'round looking for Severus." John's face flushed with temper. "He didn't touch me, John. I told him to come back when you were home."

"I'll deal with him, Faye. Keep the children inside."

"You watch yourself, John," said Sutherby rising unsteadily from the barrow. "I knew Toby's dad well. Ol' Sandy was as strong as an ox and just as hard to hurt."

"Tobias isn't his father," replied John.

Faye and Sutherby had just enough time to join Mrs. Sutherby and the children when Tobias reappeared. The children were gathered at the window to watch. Petunia was crying and Lily was cheering on her father. Severus was bemused.

"Come away from the window children," said Mrs. Sutherby.

"Severus needs to see this," replied her husband as he placed a reassuring hand on Severus' thin shoulder.

Outside, the two men were facing off. John was willing to talk things out, but Tobias was determined to show his dominance; a reedy thing like John Evans should be easy to take care of. Tobias threw a lunging right hand. John slipped it and fired both a left and a right at Tobias' midsection. Tobias responded by retracting his right arm and attempting to plant his elbow into John's collarbone. John moved and Tobias missed, hitting the back of John's shoulder. The blow hurt, but didn't do the damage that Tobias was hoping for. They squared off again. This time Tobias tucked his elbows in and covered his aching ribs.

John was cautious and stayed in a low crouch. He circled Tobias, careful not to draw too close. John had the height and reach advantage, but was wary of Tobias' strength and skill. Tobias had power, but John had speed. Tobias was an aggressive fighter and continued to move in. John pivoted out of his way, intent on tiring Tobias, and blocked as many punches as he could. John returned blows only when he was certain they'd land.

Tobias was breathing heavily; fatigue and blind rage caused him to make foolish mistakes, and John was taking every advantage that he could. John had a large cut above his left eye and the blood dripping from it was blinding him. His knuckles were torn and his ribs ached so badly that it was hard to breathe, but he pressed on. One last flurry of punches to Tobias' ribs sent him to the ground gasping for air. John stood over him, breathing hard.

"If I find one mark on that boy of yours, Snape, I'll be 'round to have another talk with you."

John stepped back and let Tobias catch his breath. Snape rose on unsteady feet and limped home without another word. Lily broke away from her mother and was the first out the door to congratulate her father. Petunia dried her eyes and followed. Severus wasn't sure what to do. Sutherby had patted Severus' shoulder, which signaled to him that he should feel happy. Severus was torn. One part of him was happy to see his cruel bullying father be beaten, and by a much smaller man. But Tobias was the only father Severus had ever known, so the other part of him wanted Tobias to win.

Severus sat on the floor of the little sitting room and watched Mrs. Evans and Sutherby tend to Mr. Evans. He sat in his favorite chair near the fire. Mrs. Sutherby was cooking dinner and Lily was helping her. Petunia ran back and forth fetching bandages and ice for her father. "This is your fault," whispered Petunia maliciously as she passed Severus. She was right; it was his fault, and he didn't know what to do about it. Severus had never seen anyone's face as swollen and bruised as Mr. Evans'. The man's ribs were distended and so darkly bruised they appeared a purplish black. His eyes were nearly swollen shut, and the knuckles on his hands were skinned and inflamed. Despite his pain, Mr. Evans was in good spirits.

It was Mrs. Evans who walked Severus home on Sunday night. He was terrified and was certain that his father was going to beat him because he lost to Mr. Evans. Severus' mother answered the door when Mrs. Evans knocked; her eye was blackened and her lip had been split. She waved Severus in and closed the door in Mrs. Evans' face. Tobias was in the sitting room as Severus passed, but said nothing to him. His bruises were well healed, telling Severus that his mother had been permitted to make healing potions for Tobias but not for herself. Tobias never spoke of the fight with Mr. Evans in front of Severus, and never forbade him to visit the Evans family, which he did often from that point on.


	26. Chapter 26

Severus' finger snagged one of the many patches on the bedraggled little coat and it abruptly brought him out of his daydream. He reverently rolled the coat up and reached for the burlap sack, dumping the contents on the bed; a pair of white tennis shoes, one pair of faded blue jeans, and one white t-shirt. He changed his clothes and temporarily became a Muggle. He exited the hovel on an overcast morning that threatened rain. He didn't carry an umbrella with him. Severus didn't care if he got wet; the cold and the rain didn't bother him. He rarely got sick and usually didn't feel the cold. Truth be told, he didn't feel much of anything anymore and cared even less.

He began the long walk through the twisted rubbish-strewn streets with row-upon-row of empty houses toward the small shop he frequented during the summer breaks. He bought mostly frozen dinners and tea bags. Severus strolled past the cemetery where his parents were buried. He dared not even glance at it. Someone could be watching him, and any indication of attachment to Muggles was a potential sign of betrayal.

Severus never visited his parents' graves and hadn't attended their funeral service. John and Faye Evans were buried in the same graveyard. The Dark Lord had intended to draw Lily and Potter out by killing Lily's parents, but the ploy didn't work. Lily and Potter evaded him. John and Faye were lucky that the Dark Lord was preoccupied and used the Killing Curse on both of them. Severus' only consolation was in knowing that they'd felt no pain when they died.

Severus risked his life to surreptitiously attend the Evans' funeral. He was polyjuiced as a vagrant. No one noticed him. Petunia and her oaf of a husband attended. Vernon kept glancing at his watch through the entire service, despite the fact that it was hurried and very short. He did have the decency to put his arm around Petunia's shoulders. She made no attempt to stifle her tears.

Lily cried and it broke Severus' heart to see it, but no one paid attention to a crying drunkard lying in a pile of wet leaves. Potter's arm was wrapped around Lily and he was whispering to her. The sight made Severus cry harder. Lily was trying to control her grief in a failed attempt to remain alert. Death Eaters were likely nearby. Potter's free hand was in his pocket, no doubt gripping his wand. His bespectacled eyes kept drifting away from Lily to scan the graveyard. The small party was chaperoned by members of The Order of the Phoenix and by Dumbledore himself. No sane Death Eater would attempt a face-to-face duel with Dumbledore, not even Bellatrix was crazy enough to do that.

Severus waited for nightfall to sneak up to the Evans' graves. Dumbledore had charmed them. Severus could sense it. He hoped the charm was only to prevent damage to the gravesites and their resting occupants. He placed a single, heavily damaged, white tennis shoe on Mr. Evans' grave. On Mrs. Evans' grave, he placed a pair of well-worn, child-sized, dark-blue mittens. Severus had nothing else to offer them. He didn't linger.

Severus barely lifted his head as he pulled open the door of the little shop. He strode directly to the back where the frozen dinners were kept. He ignored the strangers whispering about his greasy hair and strange countenance. He walked quickly to the checkout counter. The young man behind it was new and eyed Severus nervously.

"Will that be all, sir?" said the young sales clerk.

Severus was about to hand money to the young man when a little boy, about eight years old, appeared next to him. He picked up a sweet from the nearest shelf and said, "Mum?" He didn't get a chance to say anything else.

The boy's emaciated unkempt mother was racing up another aisle and lifting tins off the shelves. She reminded Severus of his own mother, except that his mother reeked of gin. This young woman's vice appeared to be street drugs. "You can't have it. Your dad wants his dinner," snapped the boy's mother.

"Sir?" repeated the sales clerk.

Severus ripped the sweet from the boy's hands. "This too." The boy looked shocked and remained immobile. Severus handed it back to the boy and, as he lifted his own bags, gave the boy his change. "Hide this," whispered Severus. The wide-eyed boy stuffed the five-pound note in his sock, and split the coins into different pockets so they wouldn't jingle. Severus grinned. Clever boy, he thought.

The storm clouds had parted by the time Severus exited the shop. He took a different route home. This new path took him by the park where he first met Lily. The large hollowed-out tree he used to play in was long gone; hit by lightning and burned to ashes that blew into the dirty river. Severus set his bags down and leaned against a tall tree, placing his foot against the trunk. Two children, a boy and a girl, were playing together and Severus watched them. He didn't know what the children looked like because he didn't see them. He saw himself and Lily.

On a nearby bench sat two men and a woman. Severus heard the woman speak to the men. "I don't like the way that man's looking at our Debby and Davie."

"Don't worry about him," replied one of the men. "I've seen him before. He's a bit of a nutter, but he seems harmless enough."

The woman was about to launch a protest, and Severus took it as his time to leave. He reached for his bags and headed home.

##

Albus Dumbledore ignored propriety and apparated directly into Severus' kitchen. It was filthy. A stack of Muggle dinners that were charmed to stay frozen were sitting on the counter. A few empty dinner boxes filled the sink. At least Severus has been eating occasionally, thought Albus. He moved into the sitting room, which was just as dirty as it was the last time he'd been there. The smell of the brewing potions filled the air, but Albus didn't need to sniff the air to know that Severus was home. He knew where the boy was and what he was doing. It was the same every year.

Severus returned home from Hogwarts for summer break for exactly two weeks. This was their habit since the first year of Severus' employment. The purpose of this odd habit was to give the appearance that the aging Dumbledore, the old fool, was so dependent upon Severus that he couldn't function without him. The pretense was designed to make Severus indispensable to Voldemort when he returned. The ruse had the added benefit of preserving Severus' sanity.

During the time spent at home, Severus immersed himself in Potions research, Dark Magic research, and dark thoughts. The dark thoughts worried Albus. This house and the surrounding town held so many unhappy memories for Severus–memories he refused to share. Albus once told Severus that sharing a burden lightened its weight. Severus' reply was silence and a dark angry glare. Albus allowed the boy his privacy.

Albus conjured a small table in the middle of the sitting room. Two comfortable chairs accompanied the table, which was covered by a cheerful yellow tablecloth. Albus would've preferred that the yellow tablecloth be covered in a pattern of brightly colored flowers, but Severus would disapprove so he refrained. He slipped through the sitting room into the hallway and entered the small room where Severus kept his Potions supplies; it was the same room his mother had used. A thin black clad and black-haired figure leaned over a set of bubbling cauldrons.

"I let myself in, Severus. I hope you don't mind."

Dumbledore said the same thing every year, and every year Severus offered the same reply–silence. He stepped away from the cauldrons and drew his wand. "Evanesco." There was no need for conversation. Severus knew exactly what to expect. He followed Dumbledore into the sitting room and sat at the conjured table. Dumbledore conjured a pot of hot tea accompanied by a full setting for two diners. Severus took his tea black without sugar. Dumbledore dropped in six sugar cubes and a copious amount of milk into his own tea cup.

From an interior pocket of his lavender robes, Dumbledore pulled out a tiny white paper bag. It expanded greatly when he set it on the table. The bag contained Severus' favorite meal. Dumbledore piled the bag's contents onto Severus' plate; fried fish, chips, and peas and carrots. Conversation was minimal, as it usually was when Severus was at home. Severus was capable of fascinating conversation when the situation called for it, but his natural inclination was to speak very little.

Albus leaned back in his chair, hot tea cup in hand, and began chatting with Severus about the upcoming school year. Their conversation meandered to Harry Potter and the inevitable return of Voldemort to full power. Severus' analytical mind locked onto the subject, and he began to discuss any person or event that he thought suspicious. No one was above reproach. Dark times were coming and traitors would be numerous. Severus expressed concerns about young Potter's fortitude in the coming war. Dumbledore's faith in the boy was unwavering, and that annoyed Severus.

Half an hour later, it was time for dessert. Albus never passed up dessert, except in dire situations. He pulled two red apples from the pocket of his robes and placed them in front of Severus. The boy loved apples. Albus conjured an enormous bowl of ice cream for himself; the bowl contained several flavors of ice cream and multiple toppings. Severus cringed at the sight of it. Albus chuckled. His distractions were working and Severus was warming, but Albus wouldn't relax until Severus was safely ensconced in Hogwarts. There he could continue his academic research unhindered, which would minimize the dark thoughts that tended to creep into his mind.


	27. Chapter 27

Lindsay spent the rest of the week catching up with old friends and generally spending as little time at home as possible. When she was home, she spent much of her time with her neighbors, the Browning's. The Browning's lived at the south end of her property. They were hardworking people that even the surly Mr. Roberts liked. They were simple but stalwart people, much like Hagrid. Mr. Roberts allowed them to occupy the large guest cottage and keep their livestock in the barns.

The Browning's doted on Mr. Roberts when he became infirmed, particularly Mrs. Browning, but the snob in him refused to see them as dear friends. He treated them more like loyal servants. He was kind to them, but aloof. Instead of paying rent, the Browning's farmed the property, tended the small orchard, and looked after the main house when it was unoccupied. Lindsay kept this exact arrangement when she inherited Mr. Roberts' property. Truth be told, the nearby presence of the Browning's was a comfort to her. Lindsay loathed solitude.

Shortly after dawn on Saturday morning, Lindsay found herself pacing in front of the fireplace in her dining room with a mug of steaming coffee cupped in her hands. She was excited to see Remus; in fact she was excited just to have guests. She didn't know the time of his arrival, or his method of travel, but assumed he'd arrive by floo like Fred and George had.

Shortly after seven, Lindsay heard the sound of someone clearing his throat and whirled around to see a sheepish-looking Remus Lupin standing behind her. He'd entered the house through the kitchen door. She set down her coffee cup and threw her arms around him.

"You scared the hell out of me, Remus!"

"Sorry about that. Look, Lin, there's something I've got to tell you..." At that moment, Sirius Black appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room holding an open tin of peaches in one hand and a fork in the other.

"You don't mind if I eat this, do you?" said Sirius as he bit into a peach slice.

"Bloody hell, Sirius, I told you to wait in the kitchen!" barked Remus.

"I am in the kitchen," replied Sirius.

"So you're the one who's been causing all the fuss?" said Lindsay, one hand resting on Remus' shoulder.

"Sirius Black at your service, milady." Sirius bowed dramatically and spilled peach juice on the floor. He pointed at the tiny puddle, "Remus, would you mind?"

Remus flicked his wand at the little puddle of juice. "I'm sorry to just spring this on you, Lin, but--"

"Could we talk about this over breakfast," said Sirius and quickly added, "if it's not too much trouble?"

"No trouble at all," replied Lindsay happily as she moved to the kitchen. "I love to cook."

"Perfect," replied Sirius, "I love to eat."

"Is there anything in particular that you'd like me to make?"

"Those steaks looked quite nice," replied Sirius.

"You've been snooping already?" said Remus, looking more than a little bit embarrassed "I only left you for a second."

"We've had nothing but bread and chips for three days. I'm starved."

"I don't mind, Remus," said Lindsay as she tied her hair back and donned a blue apron. "Somebody has to eat them. There's a wine cellar through there if you'd like--"

"Off I go," said Sirius.

"It's seven-o'clock in the morning," protested Remus.

"It's dinner time somewhere," replied Sirius as he disappeared down the stairs."

Remus sat heavily on a chair at the kitchen table. He looked exhausted. "I must say you're taking this quite well, Lin. I thought you'd at least be startled."

"I was startled for a moment, but I know you wouldn't bring a real murderer to my home. Are mushrooms and asparagus okay?"

"Yes, I'll eat anything."

Lindsay stopped what she was doing for a moment and turned to look at him. "Are you alright, Remus? You look very tired."

"Just my usual," replied Remus with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'm fine...just hungry." Lin turned back to her cooking. "There's something I need to ask of you, Lin."

"You can stay as long as you like, Remus," said Lin.

"How did you know what I was going to ask?"

"You're traveling with a fugitive. It's obvious that you need a place to stay."

Remus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I don't know how or when I can repay you--"

Lindsay slammed her knife onto the counter and turned to him. "No one said you have to. You're my guests." Sirius chose this moment to reappear. He carried a bottle of red wine in each hand.

"Never had muggle wine; I can't wait to taste it."

Their hearty, albeit unusual, breakfast led to lengthy conversation that stayed within the confines of the kitchen. Sirius's story was a terribly sad one to Lindsay, but he made light of it and Lindsay had the impression that Sirius wasn't the sort of person who tolerated low spirits for very long. She kept the conversation upbeat. Since everyone was so content to stay in one room, the conversation continued uninterrupted when Lindsay rose to make lunch.

Both men began to tire after their second meal, and the conversation wound down to near silence. Lindsay took the cue to make up rooms for them on the second floor. Remus slept until morning, but Sirius joined her for dinner and another bottle of wine, which he finished himself.

Sirius walked slowly around the pool, wine glass in his hand, while Lindsay cleaned up the kitchen. He'd had time to wash and neaten his clothes; his long, wavy, black hair blew softly in the light evening breeze. A change seemed to come over him as the sun slowly descended the sky. There was a gloomy stillness that crept over him as the sky darkened and settled into night. His face was inclined to the sky, and he spoke quietly when Lindsay joined him.

"I long to put my face up to the summer sun," he sighed deeply. "But freedom in the dark will have to do...for now, at least."

"I'm sure you'll be cleared of all charges once truth becomes known."

"You have too much faith in bureaucracy." Sirius abruptly changed the subject before Lindsay could reply. "It's awfully good of you to let us stay here."

"It's nothing. I like the company."

Sirius studied her for a moment and spoke assertively. "No harm will come to you while Remus and I are here. I promise you that."

Lindsay smiled despite the fact that Sirius's statement took her by surprise. "You don't need to reassure me. I'm not afraid."

"You should be." Lindsay wasn't sure how to take that statement. The smile faded from her face. "Oh, not of me!" blurted Sirius. "I'm harmless...loveable...adorable, some might say. But there are dangers that your muggle mind can scarcely dream of, and I'm quite frankly shocked that Albus has brought you so near to them."

"Albus Dumbledore? I don't understand..."

"I don't expect you to. There's so much you don't know; too much to explain in one evening, and I'm much too tired for it anyway. But I will tell you this; you can trust Hagrid, and the Weasley's. You won't find better people. Minerva McGonagall is as brave and stalwart as they come, but she's honest to a fault so mind what you say to her." He drained his glass and set it on the patio table. "Avoid the Malfoys and anyone who associates with them; that includes Snape."

"Professor Snape, the schoolteacher?"

"He's a dangerous man."

"But he's a schoolteacher," said Lindsay looking incredulous. "He doesn't...fiddle with the students, does he?"

"No, no," replied Sirius with a shudder. "I'm not confident that he's capable of fiddling with anybody, and I can't imagine who'd want to join him. Maybe a Hag; they can be indiscriminate, but that's a topic that shouldn't be tackled on a full stomach. Do you know what a Death Eater is?"

"Yes, Arthur told me."

"Snape is a Death Eater."

Lindsay looked stunned for a moment then broke into laughter. "You had me, you really did."

"I'm not joking. You can ask Remus tomorrow."

"Why would Professor Dumbledore hire someone so dangerous to teach children? It's absurd."

"Albus does strange things. He's a tough man to figure, but there's one thing about him that's very consistent. He's much too trusting. He likes to see good in people."

"You say that like it's a character flaw."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Well, I've given you a warning, now I have something else to discuss with you. Are you aware of Remus's ailment?"

"Yes."

"We need a safe place for him to change."

"Oh...um...there are unfinished rooms in the cellar," offered Lindsay.

"Oh no, we can't have him in the house. If he escapes...well let's just say it would be too dangerous and leave it at that."

"Oh, well, there's the tool shed, and the potting shed."

"Both too small," replied Sirius.

"There's a disused springhouse back there in that thicket. It's made of stone and it's much larger than the potting shed."

"That sounds promising. Lead on, milady." Lindsay rose and took Sirius's outstretched arm and guided him to the old springhouse. Sirius walked around the interior of the springhouse testing the strength of the stone and mortar. "This should do nicely. I can split it into two spaces; one for Remus and one for me. I like to keep an eye on him when he changes."

"There's plenty of furniture stored on the third floor. Pick whatever you like."


	28. Chapter 28

Remus rose late in the morning looking just as tired and disheveled as when he retired. He padded barefoot down to the kitchen, but stopped before entering as he heard an unfamiliar voice.

"You call me straight away if you see that dog about."

"I will Mr. Browning," replied Lindsay cheerily.

"Don't be goin' near it now. It's big and stray dogs can be dangerous."

"I won't go anywhere near it. You have my word. And please thank Mrs. Browning for the scones."

Remus gritted his teeth in temper. They'll never preserve their cover if Sirius kept running around in the daylight hours. He waited a moment, listening carefully and didn't open the door until he heard Lindsay washing dishes. She still insisted on doing things the muggle way.

"Morning, Remus," she said as he entered the kitchen and plopped heavily into the nearest chair.

"Morning, Lin. Sorry I slept in."

"Sleep as much as you like. You need the rest."

"You're a mother hen."

"It's a compulsion. I can't help it. Tea?"

"Yes, please." Lindsay poured him a cup of tea and sat two blueberry scones on a plate in front of him. "Where's Sirius?"

"He's in the springhouse. He's sprucing it up for you." Remus didn't reply to that. "There's something I need to ask you. Sirius told me that Professor Snape is a Death Eater..."

Remus roughly set his teacup down, splashing tea onto the table. He rubbed his eyes for a moment before answering. "Severus was a Death Eater. He's not now. Albus wouldn't hire a Death Eater as a teacher." Remus's tone had been sharper than he'd intended. "I'm sorry, Lin, I didn't mean to snap at you."

"It's fine, Remus. I know it's the illness."

"It's a curse not an illness! I'm not an invalid!" Remus sat back in his chair. "Lin, I'm--"

"You don't need to apologize. Eat your scones. Mrs. Browning's a wonderful baker."

Remus was drinking his second cup of tea when a large, black, shaggy dog trotted across the patio and in the backdoor. The large canine form morphed quickly into Sirius, who stood in front of the counter and lifted a scone from a wicker basket. He sat down across from Remus.

"The neighbors saw you."

"And a cheery good morning to you too, Remus." Sirius nibbled on his scone, dropping crumbs on the table.

"You've got to be more careful, Sirius. We'll be caught if you--"

"So a couple of muggles saw a dog. It's not like they're going to inform the Ministry."

"They could post flyers or place an ad in the newspaper asking about a missing dog," snapped Remus.

"Hm, hadn't thought of that," mumbled Sirius. He waved his hand and the basket floated to the table. He helped himself to another scone.

"You never think anything through! You never think about anyone but yourself!" growled Remus.

"I'll let that pass since it's that time of the month," replied Sirius nonchalantly, still dropping crumbs. Lindsay sat a cup of tea in front of Sirius and took the chair next to him. "Cheers, love."

"How's the springhouse coming along?"

"At least someone appreciates my hard work," said Sirius, shooting a smug glance at Remus. "I've come back for some furniture. A couple more hours and it'll be as safe as Gringott's, but a lot cozier."

Remus rose abruptly and stalked off to wash up. Lindsay took Sirius to the third floor where he rummaged through stacks of old disused furniture. He shrunk the pieces he wanted and stuffed them into a canvas shopping bag. The plan was for Sirius to return to the springhouse as Snuffles the dog, and Lindsay would follow later with the bag.

The interior of the springhouse was divided by thick wrought iron bars with a locking gate. The bars went all the way around one side of the room in a continuous form, butting up against the stone walls. There was nothing else on that side.

In the center of the other side of the room hung a lantern with an unlit white candle in it; another lantern sat atop a small rectangular table, set against the wall, with one chair at either end. The floor was covered by a thick rug. A large, red, overstuffed chair sat facing the iron bars.

"How did you get the bars in here?" said Lindsay taking hold of one of the bars and giving it a good push.

"Magic of course," replied Sirius facetiously. "I borrowed some of your garden fence. I hope you don't mind."

"Not if it will keep Remus safe."

"The bars will hold," said Sirius. "I'm sure of it."

The next evening, just before sunset, Snuffles and Remus headed out to the springhouse that would be Remus's prison for the next few days. Lindsay followed after with a stuffed picnic basket in one hand and a rolled up sleeping bag and cushioned mat under her other arm.

Sirius was already seated in his comfy chair when she entered and Remus was pacing. She set the items on the little table and turned to Remus, who forced a smile. She heard Sirius remark quietly behind her, "Oooh, white wine this time." She hugged Remus and kissed his cheek.

"I'll be fine, Lin. You're in more danger than I am."

"No she's not; I'm here!" said Sirius gallantly, sandwich already in hand. "I hate to be rude, darling, but it's getting late."

Lindsay exited. As she slowly closed the door, she heard the gate close inside and the click of the lock as Sirius turned the key.

"So you're just going to sit there and get drunk?" said Remus.

"On one bottle of wine?" replied Sirius. "Give me some credit. And give me your clothes before you tear them to shreds."

Sirius had done an excellent job of fortifying the springhouse. Lindsay paced the patio listening intently and didn't hear a single sound. She retired early, but didn't sleep well. She kept rising and looking out her bedroom window despite the fact that she could see neither the springhouse nor the thicket that surrounded it from her bedroom. Still, looking out made her feel better somehow.

Remus was still jailed in his cell when Pomona and Neville arrived. Their work wouldn't take them near the springhouse until after Remus was safely back in the house, and they left before evening. Lindsay passed baskets of food to Sirius in the wee hours of the morning and in early evening immediately after Pomona and Neville left. It was difficult for Lindsay to pretend that she had no worries to contend with, but she managed well enough. Neither Neville nor the more astute Pomona seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary, and all three chatted merrily over lunch.

A pale and haggard Remus left his cell very early in the morning. He had one arm stretched painfully over Sirius's shoulders, and the other over Lindsay's. Sirius took a great risk by walking undisguised in the dusky morning light, and Remus was too weak to reprimand him for it. To Lindsay's trained medical eye, Remus resembled a cancer patient undergoing very aggressive chemotherapy. He'd lost a surprising amount of weight. His eyes were sunken and black, his cheeks were sunken, and his jawbone was too prominent.

The trio walked slowly and Remus leaned heavily on his two companions. Sirius whispered words of encouragement to him. "Put one foot in front of the other, Moony. It's not far, you can make it. The worst is over, my friend. Just a few more steps and you'll be in a nice soft bed."

Remus collapsed onto his bed. Sirius immediately offered him a pain potion. Remus was asleep before he'd drunk half of it. Sirius sat the remainder on the nightstand and muttered, "More for later." He and Lindsay removed most of Remus's clothes. Lindsay was startled by the state of Remus's skin; it was inflamed, stretched, and torn. The worst damage was near his joints.

"I know it looks bad," said Sirius, "but it'll heal quickly." He flicked his wand and the blankets rose a few inches in the air; close enough to keep Remus warm without putting painful weight on his torn body. He waved Lindsay out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. "He won't eat much for a day or two; after that you won't be able to fill him up."

Remus's appetite increased dramatically as soon as he was on his feet. He ate six times a day for about a week. His appetite returned to normal after he gained some weight. He slept a lot for the first week and swam in the pool in the evenings after Neville and Pomona left. The weightless exercise was easy on his aching joints. Remus proved himself to be a very strong swimmer once his vitality returned.

The stronger Remus got, the more restless Sirius became. He began pacing through the house at all hours and drinking more. He was the most despondent when the Weasley's visited for a day of swimming, sometimes bringing Harry and Hermione with them. Remus almost had to restrain Sirius to keep him hidden. Only the combined threats of harm coming to Harry and Lindsay being arrested by the Ministry held him back. The cycle began again as the next full moon approached. The pattern continued until Lindsay left for Hogwarts. Remus and Sirius stayed for a few weeks longer, until it was safe for them to go elsewhere. They didn't tell her where they'd be going, stating that it was safer for her not to know.


	29. Chapter 29

Lindsay's first Potions lesson after the summer break was quiet, but still laced with tension–a different sort of tension than before. She chose to politely ignore it. Snape's staring had changed a little now that Remus was gone. He still looked at her intensely, but there was less visible aggression. "Maybe he was jealous of Remus?" thought Lindsay. "How silly, it's obvious that we're no more than friends." But people feel what they feel. It's how people deal with their feelings that makes the difference. Lindsay's mother used to tell her to "shower them with kindness and they'll melt." Her mother could melt an iceberg with just a smile. Lindsay had to work a little harder, but she liked a challenge. The structure of Snape's lessons changed too. This time he chose to join her rather than stalk her, and stood on the opposite side of the table she was working at.

Snape silently watched Lindsay select and prepare ingredients. He had to stop himself from smiling when she first entered the classroom. He'd missed her over the summer break and wasn't prepared to handle such a feeling. She reminded him so much of Lily, yet she was so different from her. Lindsay's hair was nearly the same shade of dark red, perhaps a shade or two darker than Lily's. She was pretty, outgoing, charismatic, and confident. Lily was all of those things too. Yet the way Lindsay projected her character was so different from Lily. Lindsay was more subtle with a softer manner. Lily was frank and assertive. Snape frowned to himself as he looked down at the potion that he should've been making Lindsay brew on her own. He felt as confused as he appeared. His behavior around Lindsay was ever-changing. He wasn't able to sort out his feelings regarding Lindsay, and it made him feel disorganized and nervous. The uneasy combination presented itself outwardly as dislike.

Lindsay's easy relaxed manner lulled Severus into a false sense of familiarity. Her silence allowed his mind to wander without interruption, and he found himself seeing Lily's face locked in concentration. Instead of Lindsay's long, thin, artistically adept fingers, he saw Lily's small feminine hands reaching for Potions ingredients. The light scent of gardenia that wafted from Lindsay's body shifted to his memory of the soft English rose perfume that he'd made for Lily when he was a boy. And then Severus did something he hadn't done in many, many years.

"Do you hear that?" said Lindsay as she looked up from chopping Potions ingredients

Snape was standing on the opposite side of the work table slowly stirring a bubbling pink potion. "Hear what?"

"There's a vague sort of humming noise." She looked around the room, trying to discern where it could possibly be coming from. "Hmm, it's gone now. That was weird." She went back to chopping. "Ugh, there it is again! You don't hear that?"

"No," said Snape, his eyes still fixed on the potion.

Lindsay looked at him for second and started to laugh. "You're doing it, aren't you?"

"Yes," replied Snape, a tiny smile creeping into his features.

"Will you teach it to me?"

"No."

Lindsay laughed harder. "Alright, Professor, you got me. That was really annoying." She went back to chopping ingredients. Snape lifted his eyes and watched her through his curtain of lank hair. She was still smiling mischievously. He was unsure if she was genuinely amused, or if she thought him foolish.

"Professor, will you tell me about the Dark Arts?"

"Ask Lupin," replied Snape brusquely.

"I did and he, like everyone else, skirted the subject. Besides, I'm not asking about Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'm asking what the Dark Arts really are."

Snape's eyes glittered ominously. He studied her for some time before answering. "You are not capable of performing Dark Magic."

"I don't want to perform it; I want to understand it. Let me put it another way. There's an old saying that goes, 'Know thyself; know thy enemy'--"

"--'A thousand battles, a thousand victories,'" finished Snape. "Sun Tsu, 'The Art of War'. I am familiar." He stopped stirring his potion and put out the flames underneath the cauldron with a wave of his hand. Lindsay thought the conversation was over and was about to bring up another topic when Snape spoke again. "Come with me."

He led her to his quarters. Snape's sitting room was dark and essentially unfurnished except for a few fully stocked bookcases and a single armchair with a small side table, upon which sat a single unlit candle. There was no fireplace in the room, but there was an old potbelly stove in the far corner of it. The only light in the room was coming from its front grill, which cast an eerie, flickering, orange glow. It was blatantly obvious that he rarely, if ever, entertained guests. Lindsay immediately understood the profoundness of being invited into his inner sanctum, no matter how odd the invitation had been. She weighed her words carefully so as not to offend him. "So these are your rooms. Uncluttered and practical, they say that's a sign of an organized mind."

Snape stood in front of a long stone wall, which was clearly not bare as Lindsay could see portrait frames hanging upon it. The darkness of the room, however, obscured the portraits' subject matter. Snape waved her over. She stood next to him, her warm smile still firmly planted on her face. "Oooo, pictures, I like pictures."

Snape removed his wand from its pocket and held it in front of the portraits. "Lumos," he said softly. Light burst forth from the wand's tip, illuminating the entire wall. He studied her face, never looking at the portraits.

Her eyes widened and her smile vanished. "Oh...God...these are gruesome."

"These are the Dark Arts," said Snape without taking his eyes off her.

"How can you look at them?" Snape studied her expressions as her eyes moved over the images. The first was horror, and it swiftly traveled through her features. He next saw a mingling of curiosity and disdain. He waited for her to look at him so he could see the inevitable rejection in her eyes.

"I get it," she said as she turned to him, her eyes warm and welcoming. "It's a narrow and dangerous line to walk. To defeat an opponent, you must understand it. True understanding requires some kind of an attachment like respect or fascination, but not love so much, because a certain amount of objectivity is crucial. They teach us that in medical school as a form of self-preservation. It can be emotionally damaging to get too involved with patients. Objectivity is a physician's shield. I couldn't learn it, that's why I chose not to practice." She nodded, more to herself than to him. The pleasant smile returned to her features. "I understand. Thank you, Professor." She turned her back on the portraits and patted his shoulder. "They still creep me out, though."

His confidence in her disapproval of him was unexpectedly shattered, and he was left feeling naked and ugly in the light. His curtain of hair wasn't substantial enough to shelter him. "Nox," he said and quickly moved away from her. Lindsay followed him back to the potions lab.

"That was an eye-opener, Professor. What's that old saying...a picture speaks a thousand words?" He resumed his place on the opposite side of the work table and said nothing. His only response was to raise an eyebrow. "Yeah, that was a stupid thing to say considering the portraits around here actually talk." She began cutting and chopping and crushing ingredients, which she handed to him for inclusion in the now simmering potion. "My friends who weren't studying medicine were horrified by some of the pictures in my textbooks, but the ones who were medical students thought the inside of the human body was the most beautiful and fascinating thing they'd ever seen. It's all about perspective, isn't it? It's absolutely terrifying the first time you cut into a living person, at least it was for me, but sometimes we have to hurt people to help them. Logically speaking, that makes perfect sense to me, but emotionally...not so much...."

Her tone was familiar yet respectful, her posture relaxed. She seemed totally unaware that he had no idea what to say back to her. Beautiful women didn't speak to him unless they had to, and then they spoke at him and not to him. Had she been condescending toward him or frightened of him, he would have had an endless supply of snarky remarks to put her in her place, but her congenial manner left him at a loss for words.

"...Everything turned out alright in the end. I earn a good living as a painter and a freelance medical writer. And best of all, I'm not tied to an office. I like a change of scenery now and again, don't you?"


	30. Chapter 30

Neville's first class with Professor Moody had been disastrous. The demonstration of Unforgivable Curses had been too much for him to bear. He needed a place to rest his mind for a while, but he wasn't the sort to flaunt school rules like Harry, so he didn't know where to go. The common room was too noisy. His dormitory wasn't private enough, and Hermione would spot him in the library. He'd spent as long as he could in the greenhouses; then chose a quiet corner of the common room to do his homework. Now he needed a place to unwind.

Neville entered Lindsay's sitting room. It was the only place he could think to go where he'd be left at peace. He thought she'd be in bed at this late hour, but she was sitting in her desk chair turned away from the door. She was singing softly with her guitar in her lap. To Neville's ear, it sounded a bit like a lullaby. She stopped playing when she noticed him. "Sorry," he said softly.

"It's okay," said Lindsay cheerfully as she turned to greet him properly. Neville looked very upset and a concerned expression spread across Lindsay face. "Are you okay?" Neville had difficulty answering. "Neville?"

"I had my first Defense Against the Dark Arts class today. I...um...didn't do well."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Neville. I hear Harry's very good at that subject. You should ask him to help you."

"Yeah, I'll do that," muttered Neville quickly. "Um...so what were you playing, another lullaby?"

"No, it's not a lullaby, but it is relaxing in its own way, isn't it?" Neville nodded and sat on the couch. He stared at the fire with an inexplicable longing in his eyes. He asked Lindsay to play the same song three more times before he rose to go to bed. He left without saying a word.

###

Ginny sat at the Gryffindor table picking at her breakfast and reading a copy of Witch Weekly. Hermione sat down in between Ginny and Ron and across from Harry, whom the twins were on either side of. Hermione motioned to all of them that she had something to say and lowered her voice to a whisper. They all leaned in to listen, expecting to hear something about Arithmancy, or Hogwarts' history, or some other boringly irrelevant topic. "Have any of you noticed the way Professor Snape looks at Lindsay?" The twins exchanged mischievous glances and smiled broadly.

"What do you mean?" said Harry.

"I caught Snape staring at her again...more like leering, actually." Hermione shuddered. "It was horrid, and his face looked a little flushed."

"Eeewww," cringed Ginny.

"Looks like Harry and Neville aren't the only ones he hates," said Ron.

"I saw him doing that when Lindsay was trying to teach Lavender Brown and the Patil twins some dance steps. I think he's got it in for her," said Harry.

"He's definitely got it for her," said Fred. "I don't know about the 'in' part, though." George spluttered juice all over the table.

"Oh, you're awful!" said Hermione.

"That's the end of my breakfast," said Ginny as she grimaced and pushed her plate away.

"What?" said Ron through a mouthful of oatmeal. "What are you talking about?" The twins laughed, but didn't elaborate. "What did I miss? Do you know what they're going on about, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "Not a clue."

"Quiet," said Hermione. "Here comes Lindsay."

"Morning all," said Lindsay cheerily, her hair still damp from a shower. She sat down next to George. Her eyes moved from one face to the next. "I have the feeling I've interrupted something."

"Not at all," said Ginny quickly. "We were just answering a questionnaire in Witch Weekly. Want to have a go?"

"Sure."

"What's the most important trait a wizard can have--?"

"Loyalty," answered Lindsay.

"Um, that's not on the list," said Ginny.

"What I like never is. Okay, give me the list then."

"A) a charming personality; B) a handsome smile; C) an athletic build; and D) a good sense of humor."

"We've got all those covered, don't we, George?"

"Easily, Fred."

"Out of those, I guess I'd have to pick 'D'," answered Lindsay.

"Good answer," said George. "What do you fancy in a bloke, Fred?"

"I'd have to say...lovely green eyes, like Harry's. How 'bout you, George?"

"I'd say charmingly messy black hair, like Harry's."

"Oh, and don't forget about amazing flying skills, like Harry's," added Fred.

"So manly," said George with a sigh. "Don't you agree, Harry?"

Ginny's face burned red and she looked away from Harry who was too busy laughing at the twins to notice.

"Oh, by the way," said Fred to Lindsay. "You wouldn't happen to know a five-letter word for 'love' that begins with the letter 'S', would you?"

"I'm not sure, Fred. This 'S' word wouldn't happen to have long black hair and a surly disposition, would it?" The twins laughed and Ron looked confused. Harry had finally caught on and was beginning to look a little green.

"What is everyone laughing about?"

"Trust me on this, Ron. You don't want to know," replied Harry.

Ginny flipped through a few pages of her magazine and held it upright for Lindsay to see. "Isn't he gorgeous?"

"Beauty is ugliness; ugliness is beautiful," answered Lindsay.

"You've been spending too much time with Dumbledore," said Harry.

###

Professor Moody was the DADA teacher this year, but he wasn't one of Lindsay's instructors. Dumbledore, who now insisted that Lindsay call him Albus, took over where Remus had left off. Lindsay was grateful for the arrangement. Moody made her nervous for reasons she couldn't identify. It certainly wasn't his scarring that bothered her. Lindsay's medical training had brought her into contact with severely injured and heavily scarred patients. The sights didn't sicken her, but she had pity for their suffering. Moody's gruff manner didn't frighten her either, but there was something about him she didn't like and that made her feel both uneasy and guilty.

Her first lesson with Albus was in his office. She brought her violin just in case he asked her to play. Albus rose when Lindsay entered the room, just as he always did, and greeted her warmly. He wore light-blue robes with a soft yellow and silver brocade; a subtle ensemble for Albus' tastes.

"Oh, what a lovely shade of blue," remarked Lindsay.

"I wore it for you; I remembered that light blue was your favorite color," beamed Albus.

"How thoughtful."

"Lemon drop?" said Albus.

"Yes, please."

"Shell we get straight to it then?"

"Yes, of course," replied Lindsay. Albus appeared in good humor and spoke pleasantly, but Lindsay had the feeling that he was anxious about something. He escorted her to a small table flanked by two chairs. A small silver tray lay on the table and was covered by a dark linen cloth.

"Please have a seat, Lin." She sat down and set her bag and violin case on the floor beside her. Albus looked pensive as he took the chair across from her. "I would like to expand on your earlier exploits with Stampy, if you don't mind?"

"I don't mind at all," replied Lindsay, but it was a lie; however, she trusted Albus and was willing to accommodate his wishes. He flicked his index finger and the dark linen cloth lifted off of the tray and settled on the table. The odor of putrefaction assaulted Lindsay's nose. The cloth had apparently been charmed to seal in odors. A dead toad graced the top of the tray. It had been dead at least a week. Large pockets of decay were visible on the carcass. Lindsay had dissected cadavers and was neither frightened nor sickened by death and decay; however, she was beginning to regret agreeing to Albus' request.

Albus studied her with his twinkling blue eyes; a pleasant smile graced his lips. He was a master of deception when the situation called for it. Despite his native dislike for dishonesty, it was occasionally necessary. Lindsay was trepidatious, and that made him hopeful.

"I did not harm this animal," began Albus. "I found it near the lake. It presumably died of natural causes. I want you to revive it, just like you did with Stampy." Albus made sure to appear excited and expectant. Lindsay's natural inclination to please others would make her feel too guilty to refuse his request.

Lindsay was wringing her hands nervously. She didn't want to touch the dead animal. "Well...uh...I don't know if I can, Albus. The body's in very bad condition."

"Do your best," replied Albus.

Lindsay avoided touching the carcass and instead placed her hands on either side of it. She closed her eyes and focused her consciousness on tracking the toad's disembodied spirit; some might call it the soul. Lindsay felt her mind gliding through an unfamiliar plane. It was different from where she'd found Stampy; his spirit was in a place that felt peaceful, yet more confused and less settled than this place. The toad's spirit was residing in a place that felt vast, and within this vastness existed such a feeling of contentment that Lindsay felt her mind drifting away from the toad's spirit in favor of basking in this feeling of profound serenity. She felt a strong and abrupt pull; not a physical feeling, but a mental one and she turned to follow it. She opened her eyes to a worried-looking Albus.

"You must focus, Lin," said Albus. His tone was stern. "You have a single path to follow. You will not stray from it. Now try again."

Once again Lindsay placed her hands on the tray and closed her eyes. She found this new plane easily, but finding the toad was more difficult than before. An immense crowd of entities gathered before her; their numbers seemed endless. She wanted to call them people yet many of them were not human, or hadn't been when they lived in corporeal form. She had the impression that they were trying to protect the toad by hiding it. The subterfuge annoyed Lindsay and she continued on. Every spirit in the huge crowd was talking at once. Lindsay interpreted it as speech, but it was more similar to thought.

After blundering about for what seemed like a lifetime, Lindsay found the toad. Its spirit felt peaceful. She attempted to communicate with it and was overwhelmed by its innocence. It had no comprehension of where it was; only that it was happy and safe from pain and harm and the hardships of trying to survive in a living physical world. She had the sense that she could force this poor creature back into its decayed body, but her conscience couldn't bear the thought of it. She noticed then that the crowd had become silent, and their masses had moved away from her. She finally understood what they'd been trying to tell her. Lindsay pulled her mind away from the toad's spirit.

"I'm sorry, Albus, I can' do it. I won't. It would be wrong." She expected Albus to be upset with her and rambled on to diffuse her nerves. "It was different with Stampy. He hadn't been dead for very long and wasn't settled in a new existence. And his body was healthy; his wounds were minor. This toad's been dead too long--"

"Relax, Lin," said Albus. He flicked his index finger and the cloth covered the toad carcass, sealing in the offensive odor of decay. He sat back in his chair looking relieved rather than angry. His eyes twinkled pleasantly.

Comprehension speeded across Lindsay's mind. "This was a test, wasn't it?"

"Yes, my dear, it was. And you performed brilliantly; far better than I would have."

Lindsay frowned, "That's not a very nice thing to say about yourself, Albus."

"We all have our weaknesses, and I'm all too aware of mine." He waved his hand and the little table with its toad-bearing tray disappeared. He moved Lindsay's chair closer and took hold of her hands in his. Physical contact made it easier for her to control her natural defenses. More Occlumency lessons were today's agenda. Albus held her hands, looked into her eyes, and began to gently probe her surface thoughts. Later in the same lesson, Albus would stand across the room and attempt to probe her mind. Her Occlumency skills were fair, but improving. Her control over her natural magical defenses, however, had greatly improved.

Albus thought it time to push her a little harder. He held her gaze and sent a mild stinging hex at her. Her Occlumency defenses faltered and a burst of blue light absorbed the hex. A swipe at the air with his hand was enough to dispel the energy that rushed at him.

Lindsay swayed a little and blinked a few times. "Sorry about that."

"Quite alright," replied Albus. "You're skills are improving rapidly."

"My defensive magic knocked Professor Snape off his feet, but you dispelled it with a wave of your hand. I couldn't hurt you if I tried, could I?"

Albus smiled mischievously and replied, "Not while I had my wits about me, no."

Lindsay stooped to pick up her belongings. "How did you know that my mind was drifting when I was looking for the toad?"

"Intuition," replied Albus.

"Intuition, huh?" repeated Lindsay incredulously. "There's much more to you than meets the eye, isn't there, Albus Dumbledore?"

"Possibly."

"Ah, a man of mystery."

"Quite," said Albus with a grin.

"I've got tickets for the symphony next Saturday. The Baltimore Symphony Orchestra is playing the Royal Albert Hall. Would you like to go?"

"I'd be delighted," replied Albus happily.


	31. Chapter 31

Lindsay threw her pencil on the desk in frustration. The equation she was working on wasn't yielding the results she was hoping for. Her notebook was nearly full with a new Potions formula and its many variants; each one had a corresponding sheet of paper with a math equation on it attempting to predict an outcome. So far none of them had been favorable, and Lindsay was at the end of her ability. She needed help.

She looked at her watch. It was still early. Snape would be patrolling the halls this evening. She hoped he was in a charitable mood. It was a few minutes before curfew and students were scattering in all direction trying to make it back to their houses before Snape caught them. Lindsay found him stalking the second floor.

"Professor?" called Lindsay, and Snape stopped. "Professor, I need your help with a Potions formula."

Snape resumed walking. "My office hours are clearly posted."

"This isn't about schoolwork. I'm working on a new potion, my own."

Snape stopped again; an arrogant smirk graced his face. He saw her notebook and held out his hand for it. His smirk disappeared as his eyes scanned the pages. A crease appeared between his brows, and he lifted his eyes to her. "This is very complex."

"The more I work on it, the longer the list of ingredients gets. And I can't get the probable failure rate below eighty percent. Please, will you help me?"

"I will think about it after I've examined your notes." He tucked her notebook under his arm and began walking again, at a pace slow enough that it suggested she follow him. "You must understand that you're dealing with magical properties. Mathematical equations can be used as a general guide, but they can't accurately predict probability."

"I don't have your intuitive understating, Professor. That's why I'm asking for help. I've reached the limit of my ability."

Snape was true to his word. He returned her notebook and presented her with a lengthy piece of parchment at the beginning of her next lesson with him. He'd reduced the list of ingredients by a third. He substituted a single herb that had the same or similar properties as two or three herbs on Lindsay's list. Lindsay was unfamiliar with most of his suggestions.

"Those are very rare and very expensive herbs. I wouldn't expect you to know them," said Snape as he took a seat across from her. "My substitutions are less toxic. And I've broken the brewing process into three parts, which will make the brewing easier and faster, and will improve the success rate."

Lindsay scanned the bottom of the parchment and smiled at the math equation written in Snape's handwriting. "I didn't know wizards were good at math."

"We're a rare breed, but we exist," replied Snape. "I daresay a fifty-percent success rate is a great improvement over your eighty-percent failure rating."

"It certainly is. Thank you, Professor."

"I'll be going to Hogsmeade tomorrow. If you'd like to join me, we could discuss this further."

Lindsay smiled broadly. "Yes, absolutely; I'd love to."

Snape was surprised by her answer, and his nervousness began to show. His cheeks flushed slightly and he looked away from her. "Ex...excellent, I'll meet you in the Three Broomsticks."

###

George appeared out of nowhere behind Ron. He put his hands on Ron's face and turned his head sharply. "Look at that!" Ron searched the many faces in the room, wondering what George was getting at, when his eyes settled on a small table in a dark corner. He saw Snape and Lindsay sitting across from each other having a somewhat lively--at least on Lindsay's part--but clearly friendly discussion. "Oy, what's going on there?" asked Ron.

"Nauseated?" asked George excitedly.

"No."

"Oh well, it was a good effort, George," said Fred as he sat down, uninvited, across from Harry and helped himself to some of the food on Harry's plate. "Last week they were sitting like this." George moved to sit next to Fred. They leaned closely together, shoulder to shoulder, and looked at each other with exaggerated moony-eyed expressions. Ron made a sickening noise and wore an equally disgusted expression. "Ah, you're nauseous now, aren't you?" said George.

"For your information, they were working on an obscure potions formula," said Hermione. "Lindsay showed me the parchment."

"How do you know it wasn't a ruse, Granger?" asked Fred.

"Because Snape's scrawl is unmistakable, I recognized it immediately. The formula was really quite interesting --"

"Ugh, spare us the details," said Fed.

"A thought has just occurred to me, Fred," said George as he eyed the odd couple in the corner.

"What might that be, George?"

"How does the Greasy Git manage to keep from slipping off his chair?"

"Invisible seatbelt?" replied Fred with a shrug.

"It's obvious that your affection for Lupin has prompted this," said Snape tapping the parchment on the table with his index finger. "I suppose you haven't considered the many Potions experts who've attempted to create a cure for lycanthropy and failed, some disastrously."

"I have as much chance as anyone."

"The odds are not in your favor, considering the high failure rate experienced by previous altruists."

"My reasons for doing this really aren't important," replied Lindsay as she set her empty teacup to the side.

"You are setting yourself up for great disappointment, Miss Gray."

Lindsay wasn't sure if Snape was really trying to protect her from failure, or if he was just trying to keep her away from Remus. The man could be inscrutable at times. "There's only one thing that matters, Professor: can we make this work?"

"As you wish," said Snape, heaving a deep sigh. "May I suggest you familiarize yourself with the research of other Potions makers before continuing with your own—to avoid unnecessary mistakes?"

"I deliberately didn't want to do that because I didn't want to be sidetracked by someone else's theories."

Snape's posture changed, becoming less rigid, as his mind locked onto the problem at hand. "The fifty-percent success rate I proposed is optimistic. In actual practice, it will likely be somewhat less, and that will vary from patient to patient. Are you prepared to have patient deaths on your conscience?"

Lindsay chose not answer the question directly. "What if the patient was placed in a medically induced coma first? The stress on the body could be drastically reduced, which should—in theory, produce a higher success rate. Is that possible, Professor—a magical coma?"

"Placing a patient into magical stasis is possible, yes; but only if he is still in human form. It would be impossible to contain a werewolf in such a way."

"What if said werewolf were given Wolfsbane potion first? The patient would be placid, and we'd be able to work with him."

Snape shook his head. "Wolfsbane combined with your potion would be toxic."

"Couldn't we wait a few hours to let the potion cycle out of the body?"

"It's not just about the excretion of a drug from the body, Miss Gray. There are also magical properties to be dealt with." Snape leaned forward and pointed at the list of ingredients on the parchment. "Many of the herbs in your potion are toxic in themselves. I've reduced their toxicity to acceptable levels, but any patient who was administered this potion would still become very ill and need intensive medical care. Adding Wolfsbane would cause certain death."

"Dang!" Lindsay flopped back in her chair in frustration.

"Perhaps if you explained to me how you formulated your theory, we could devise a safer, more refined potion."

"I was thinking that lycanthropy mimics a parasitic infection in some ways--"

"It's a curse, Miss Gray. It's magic, not science."

"Please, just hear me out, Professor. A parasite requires a host for its own survival. As long as the host lives, the parasite lives."

Snape folded his arms across his chest. A malicious grin spread across his lips. "So kill the host and the furry parasites dies with it. Go on."

"Very funny, Professor; I was thinking that the curse resided too deeply in the body to be removed. Much like a virus buried deeply into the nervous system, it's too hard to kill without causing irreparable harm to the host. But if we attack it while it's visible, when the werewolf comes out, we might be able to kill it...um, I mean, break the curse."

"That is interesting, Miss Gray," said Snape, passing his index finger across his lips. His eyes were glittering and Lindsay was sure that she caught hold of his intellectual curiosity. Snape sat up suddenly and leaned forward a little. His mind was turning over potential scenarios instead of dismissing her theory as quackery.

"For the present, we will keep this potion divided into three parts. The magical properties will have to be tested at each stage of the brewing process. If the changes are too great or too little, we'll have to start again..." Lindsay remembered almost everything that she saw or read, but speech was harder for her to remember. Snape's rapid-fire talking and ability to work through entire potions formulae in his mind made it difficult for her to keep up with him, but she was very much enjoying the challenge.

###

In the dim light of Lindsay's sitting room, two bodies moved in perfect time with the music playing softly in the background. Neville had borrowed a record player from Minerva. He was practicing dance steps with Lindsay. He even found the courage to dip her, despite her greater height.

"You're doing brilliantly, Neville," said Lindsay. "I think you've discovered a second talent."

"Do you really think so?"

"Absolutely; as long as you stay relaxed and focused, your timing is excellent." Neville moved to turn off the record-player. "Have you found a date yet?"

"No, I can't work up the courage to ask anyone. I'd ask you if you weren't going away for the holidays."

"Sorry about that, Neville, but it's a family tradition."

"I understand; family traditions are important."

"All you have to do is ask the girl if she has a date. If she doesn't, ask her if she'd like to go to the Yule Ball with you. The worst she can do is say no."

"That's not the worst thing, she could hex me."

"No one would do that to you," said Lindsay as she cupped his chin in her hand. "Just avoid the Slytherin girls, and maybe focus your efforts on the Hufflepuffs. They're mostly good natured."

"Okay," said Neville, still sounding uncertain. "Can we try one more time? I want to know the steps perfectly."

"Certainly," replied Lindsay cheerfully.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything with an * next to it will have an explanation at the end of the chapter.

Lindsay was due back at Hogwarts today, January fourth. Her bag was packed and over her shoulder. She was waiting for Hagrid to arrive. He was running late. A little before ten, Lindsay heard her doorbell ring.

"Minerva!" said Lindsay with surprise. "I didn't know you were coming. Has something happened to Hagrid?"

"I expect you didn't see the paper then," replied Minerva. She stepped into the reception hall and pulled a folded newspaper from her pocket and handed it to Lindsay. Lindsay quickly scanned the page.

"A half-giant? Is that a bad thing, Minerva?"

"To some, yes. Albus and I have been fielding questions from concerned parents since early this morning. It seems they are content to have Hagrid work as gamekeeper, but are having doubts about him teaching their children."

"But why? Hagrid's harmless. His teaching methods are a bit lacking, but he knows his subject well. I'm sure he'll get better at teaching in time."

"Why don't we discuss this over brunch? How does The Leaky Cauldron sound?"

"I rarely turn down social invitations, Minerva." They stepped outside and Minerva extended her arm for Lindsay. They disapparated with a tiny cracking sound and reappeared outside The Leaky Cauldron. There weren't many patrons at this hour, but the lunch crowd would be enormous. Daniel Flott was their waiter.

"Hi, sweetie," said Lindsay. Daniel appeared a bit nervous. "Relax; it's only Minerva and I today."

"Thank Merlin," said Daniel. "Snape still scares the hell out of me. I felt like a schoolboy again." He leaned his elbows on their table and resumed his typical casual manner. "So what were you doing out with old Snape?" he said to Lindsay.

"Oh, we were just—"

"I don't believe that's any of your business, Mr. Flott," said Minerva sternly. Daniel immediately straightened up.

"Yeah, sorry, Professor...um, didn't mean any offense. Uh...ca...can I take your orders?"

Brunch came quickly due to the small number of patrons and the two women immediately resumed their conversation.

"Giants are a volatile bunch, known for extreme violence," said Minerva. "They're feared by many in the magical community because of their unpredictability and their immunity to magic. It's very hard to hurt a giant. It's even harder to confine one. They're so large, you see. They can be very dangerous to anyone who doesn't know to properly communicate with them."

"But Hagrid's harmless," said Lindsay. "He's very gentle."

"Well, of course Albus and I know that."

"He isn't going to lose his job, is he?"

"Certainly not! Albus is not so easily intimidated," said Minerva proudly. She dropped a sugar cube into her tea before continuing. "The problem is that Hagrid has seen the newspaper, and he won't come out of his hut. I've tried speaking to him, but he won't answer. He's terribly upset."

"Oh, poor Hagrid; I'll talk to him as soon as we get back."

"Damn that Rita Skeeter!" said Minerva. "The woman's a menace!"

"How was the Ball, Minerva?"

"Oh, the Yule Ball was splendid. Albus really outdid himself with the decorations..."

###

Lindsay bypassed her rooms and marched straight to Hagrid's hut. She wrapped on the door calling his name. He didn't answer. She waited a few seconds and listened carefully with her ear pressed to the door. She could hear sniffling.

"I know you're in there, Hagrid," called Lindsay. "Please, open the door." She waited, but Hagrid still didn't reply. "I've read the newspaper and it doesn't matter what that Skeeter woman says. You're still the same Hagrid to me." Hagrid began crying harder. "Well, that was the wrong thing to say," mumbled Lindsay to herself. She took out a scrap of parchment from her bag and wrote 'I love you' on it. She slipped it under the door and waited. She heard Hagrid's heavy, booted steps approach the door and heard the paper being picked up from the floor. The result was Hagrid wailing even harder. Lindsay felt horrible for upsetting him. "I'll come back to see you tomorrow. Maybe you'll be feeling better."

But Hagrid wasn't in better humor the next day or the day after. Harry, Ron, and Hermione tried to cheer him up, but he wouldn't open the door to them either. Hagrid didn't leave his hut until Dumbledore came down from his tower to speak to him.

###

Lindsay had fewer classes than last year due to the demands of the Tri-Wizard Tournament and the large number of extra students. She spent a great deal more time working on her own projects; her lycanthropy potion and her teachers' portraits. The portraits should be finished in time for next Christmas, and she hoped that Albus would like his even better than the package of thick soft socks she gave him.

She spent a good deal of time chatting with the castle ghosts until she couldn't bear the cold anymore. The Fat Friar was very cheerful company, and Nearless Headless Nick was truly interesting. When she wasn't socializing with ghosts and chatting with portraits, she was in the library. She could read between five and ten textbooks depending on the length of the book and the complexity of the topic. Hermione was a frequent companion, but Lindsay occasionally found her competitive streak a little annoying. Lindsay didn't like to compete with others.

The year flashed by quickly between long periods of self-study and nervous excitement as the next phase of the tournament approached. The year ended with the untimely death of young Cedric Diggory; a crushing blow to both his devastated father and the much too young Harry Potter, who barely acknowledged the condolences he was offered.

Albus thought Harry would benefit from a visit with his godfather, Sirius. As yet, Sirius hadn't been placed in a safe-house so a visit was arranged at Lindsay's while her neighbors were away for the day.

Arthur lounged by the pool reading the newspaper while keeping a watchful eye on his children, and Molly commandeered the kitchen. Remus picked up where he'd left off and was attempting to teach Lindsay how to produce a patronus.

Ron and Ginny hovered on brooms above the garden and were smacking an old battered bludger back and forth. Fred and George zoomed around the patio on their brooms wearing only swim trunks, occasionally jumping off into the pool. Sirius and Harry sat at a patio table a little distance from everyone else. When Harry saw Sirius, it was the first time in weeks that Lindsay had seen Harry smile with genuine joy.

"Concentrate, Lin," said Remus. "Focus on the happiest memory you can think of." Fred chose that exact moment to jump off his broom into the pool, soaking both Remus and Lindsay "Alright, very funny," said Remus pleasantly. "Now if you would give us a little space please?"

"Sure, sure," said Fred as he climbed back onto his broom.

"One more time, Lin." Lindsay drew a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment to focus her mind and relax. Remus noticed a large shadow moving over their heads just as Lindsay twitched and looked up. Fred and George were hovering high above them dripping pool water onto Lindsay's head. She, of course, laughed. "If we could all just concentrate, please?" Remus' voice was finally showing some irritation.

"Fred, George—enough," shouted Arthur. "Behave yourselves."

"Right, Dad," replied the twins in unison.

"I'll try one more time, Remus. Then we'll call it a day." Once more she drew a deep breath to settle herself. She already had a fond memory picked out. It was easy for her; she'd had a very happy childhood and there were many memories to choose from. "Expecto patronum!" Instead of the wispy silvery threads that unusually wafted weakly from her wand, she produced a full-bodied silvery patronus of a very large *bat. Fred and George laughed so hard they fell off their brooms into the pool. Sirius and Harry laughed loudly from the other side of the pool.

"Hold on to it, Lin!" said Remus excitedly. "Concentrate!"

But it was too late; she was sidetracked by all the laughter. "Now what is so funny about a bat?"

"There once was a bat named Snivelly," started Fred, hanging on to the edge of the pool.

"Who was dismayed by the size of his willy," chimed George.

"Stop it," said Arthur from behind his newspaper with an amused twinkle in his eyes. "Not another word boys."

"Ugh, the Great Bat of the Dungeons," said Lindsay despondently. "I'll never live that down."

Remus patted her shoulder, but his expression was anything but sympathetic. He was grinning from ear to ear. "Sorry, Lin."

Lindsay wore a light-green bikini and had a thick towel wrapped around her waist. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go get dressed. I've had enough swimming for today." She passed Molly in the kitchen, who was seated at the table reading a book with her feet propped up on a chair. Everything had already been chopped, peeled, and cut. Dessert was already baked and sat cooling on the counter. Dinner was cooking, and the kitchen was currently cleaning itself. This was Molly's sanctuary. She kicked everyone out of the kitchen on the pretense that she was cooking a complicated menu and couldn't be disturbed, despite the fact that she used magic to do most of the work and was finished in less than half the time it would've taken a muggle. She sent Arthur out to look after the children and gave herself a peaceful respite. She was so engrossed in her book that she didn't notice Lindsay pass through the kitchen. She walked into the main hall with the intention of going up the front stairs, but stopped with a start; a black-clad figure stood just inside her entrance hall.

"Professor Snape, you startled me."

"I apologize, Miss Gray." Snape had placed a small, ornate, glass bottle with a card on the hall table, but quickly snatched the card up and stuffed it into his pocket as Lindsay approached. "I was...merely dropping something off. I hope you don't mind the intrusion."

"Not at all, Professor; you're welcome here anytime." She pointed to the bottle, "Is that for me?"

"Who else would it be for?" replied Snape.

Lindsay picked up the bottle. "It's lovely, Professor." She unstopped the top and smelled the most accurate scent of gardenia she'd ever encountered. "I've bought gardenia perfume from dozens of different perfume houses, and this is the finest I've ever encountered."

"Of course," replied Snape with a proud smile, or Snape's version of one. "It's my own. It's more accurate and the scent will last longer than any you'll find; and that includes the offerings from any magical perfumeries."

"I didn't know that you could make perfume."

"It's not exactly difficult. I am a superior Potions Master."

"Professor, I'd love to tease you about immodesty, but I just can't. This perfume is exquisite and the bottle is beautiful." She held it up to the light from the window and a kaleidoscopic of colors appeared on the wall next to her. "Thank you so much..." From the kitchen, Molly shouted that dinner was ready. "A few minutes, Molly," replied Lindsay.

Snape's demeanor became more rigid and the smile left his face. Even the tone of his voice had become colder. "Forgive me. I was unaware that you had guests."

"Please join us. We have plenty of room."

"No thank you," was Snape's only reply. He disapparated with a tiny pop.

"Such an usual man," said Lindsay as she carried her delicate cargo upstairs with her to change her clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Bat Patronus= awareness of the powers of darkness and chaos. I found it here: Scottish-wedding-dreams[DOT]com/heraldic-symbols


	33. Chapter 33

Summer break was coming to an end and Lindsay looked forward to the vibrant activity of Hogwarts. She'd just finished breakfast and was flipping through her favorite muggle newspaper. She set it aside and picked up the first issue of her subscription to The Daily Prophet. She read the most fascinating article on the second page.

'An illegal hippogriff fighting ring has been apprehended by Ministry aurors, who were tipped off by an anonymous informant. The wizards responsible for the illegal activities were badly beaten, but were unable to identify their attackers. They claimed to have been attacked by several very large warlocks. Aurors believe the battered hippogriffs turned on their abusers. The rescued hippogriffs will be held in Ministry custody until healthy enough to join the herd at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The apprehended wizards will be held in custody while awaiting trial.'

Next to the article was a picture of a hippogriff that shared the same unusual coloring as Stampy. Lindsay smiled broadly and set the paper down, "Good going, Hagrid."

Today's agenda would be house cleaning—the entire house. She had plans to spend a long weekend with a friend, and the mindless chore of cleaning would keep her busy until evening and keep her mind off of the fact that she was alone. She even tried some of the cleaning spells that Molly had taught her with a small measure of success.

Shortly before ten in the evening, Lindsay received a call from her friend canceling their plans. Her sister had gone into labor earlier than expected and needed a caregiver for a few days. Lindsay's friend lived near a lovely city park and impromptu music performances were common on weekends. Older musicians were usually performing in the early morning hours; typically jazz and folk. Younger musicians began gathering in the afternoon and the music became harder and more driven as evening approached. Lindsay decided to make day trips. She'd leave very early and take her violin. She wasn't particularly good at playing jazz and hoped to catch someone willing to give her lessons. The jazz players tended to favor Friday mornings.

Friday promised to be a good day. The sun was shining and there was no rain in the forecast. Lindsay spread a blanket on the grass and set her things down next to her. She and a few dozen others were waiting for the first musicians to begin playing. Younger people were lying on the grass and enjoying the sunshine, some had babies and toddlers with them. Older people had brought folding chairs and sun shades, a few had little dogs sitting on their laps or next to their chairs.

What happened next was so fast and so unexpected that even Lindsay's photographic memory had difficulty sorting it out. There was a blur of activity. Dark figures appeared out of thin air. People began to scatter even before the screaming started, some fell dead on the ground still clutching a beloved pet or an infant. Jets of differently colored light streaked through the air. A small group of people ran across Lindsay's blanket. She had just managed to put her hand on her violin case when her sight went black.

Lindsay woke to screaming. Her head was pounding. Her sight was blurry as she raised her hand to the back of her head. She wasn't sure what happened, but surmised that someone must've kicked her head while trying to run over her. She winced as her hand touched a large lump. The screaming stopped suddenly and fiddle playing began. The sound of soft whimpering to Lindsay's immediate left drew her attention, and she saw a short-haired woman not much older than herself standing next to her. The woman appeared to be standing, but something didn't look right to Lindsay's bleary eyes. On Lindsay's right stood a boy aged not more than fifteen or so. He was struggling frantically against leg restraints that Lindsay couldn't see.

Invisible restraints! Lindsay's heart began to race. Her head swam as her pulse quickened. She could move her arms, but not her legs. She blinked several times trying to clear her vision. She suddenly realized that looking down was actually looking up. They were being held in the air upside-down. She looked down, in the correct direction this time, and saw at least six people dressed in black and some wearing hoods. Her long hair hung over her face and obscured her vision a little, but that didn't matter once she glanced at the seventh person. She'd never seen him before, but she knew exactly who he was. His high-pitched nasal voice rang unopposed in the large darkly lit room.

Lord Voldemort paced in the center of his followers commanding their attention for his every move, his every utterance, no matter how insignificant. Next to Voldemort sat an elderly man holding Lindsay's violin. Voldemort circled the man like a hunter around his prey. Lindsay recognized the old man; he was one of the musicians that were preparing to perform just before the commotion started. His hands were shaking so violently that Lindsay could see them with her slightly blurred vision and from her vantage point of at least ten feet in the air. Voldemort was harassing the man about his poor playing, and how his skills were subpar even for a muggle. His poor excuse for music was an assault on Voldemort's refined wizard hearing. Voldemort's followers laughed when they were expected to, cheered when they were expected to, and fell silent with just a glance from their master.

Voldemort commanded the old man to play again, with a warning that it had better be pleasing to hear. The elderly musician began playing a cheerful Irish reel. The man was so nervous that he was making mistakes. Voldemort winced with every sour note. Abruptly, Voldemort flicked his wand and both the violin and its bow flew out of the man's hands and hovered in the air next to him. "Avada kedavra," said Voldemort lazily, and the poor man fell over, out of his chair onto the floor in a slow but gracefully moving heap. "Knott, remove that!"

Lord Voldemort looked up and Lindsay avoided making eye-contact with him. "Let's see," he muttered. "Who'll be next? Ah, you!" said Voldemort as he waved his wand at Lindsay. She fell to the floor, landing hard; but managed to break her fall by using her palms. She was careful not to injure her arms and hands because she suspected he'd want her to play for him. "Up!"

"May I have a minute to collect myself, sir? I'm a little dizzy," said Lindsay.

"Sir?" repeated Voldemort. He laughed heartily. "But of course you may have a moment. I am a gentleman after all." Voldemort's tone and manner vacillated continuously between menacing, genteel, and downright deranged. Even if Voldemort's behavior had been consistently refined, and Lindsay knew nothing about him, she would still identify him as dangerous. The very air around him felt electric. He exuded power, a dark power that was unmistakable. One would have to be completely senseless not to notice it. But there was something else about him; a charisma that was equally unmistakable. It surfaced for only short periods, but Lindsay suspected that he was able to consciously control it when the mood struck him and that made him all the more terrifying.

In her short time among magical kind, Lindsay had developed a sense of them, a feeling of their magic; some were much harder to detect than others. It wasn't so much a sense of how powerful their magical abilities were, but more a feeling that they weren't muggles; although some did radiate potency. Minerva was one of those who gave the impression of potent ability.

Albus, like Voldemort, electrified any space he occupied. Lindsay sensed it the first time she met him, but was distracted by the magical storm outside her home and thought that the cause of the electrical sensation. Albus was also charismatic, but his charm was subtle and he radiated a gentleness that almost equaled the sense of power that his person conveyed. Albus was warm, kind, and generous, but also aloof. He kept everyone at arm's length, for self-preservation perhaps, but this tendency only endeared him more. People were drawn to Albus like moths to light. Voldemort was repellant.

"You've had your moment, now get up." Lindsay did as she was bidden. She was careful to keep her head down and avoid eye contact with anyone in the room. "Are you also a...musician?" asked Voldemort facetiously. His worshippers snickered softy.

"I am," said Lindsay. She deliberately kept her reply short and simple, and hoped that Voldemort would take it as a sign of respect; a sign that she was aware of her inferiority. She kept her eyes averted to the floor and observed the movement of his feet in the hopes that she'd be able to react appropriately if he moved suddenly. The tactic would work with a violent muggle, but was pointless when dealing with a wizard. Lindsay clung to her rationale like a life raft.

"Play," ordered Voldemort. The violin and bow floated toward her, and she chose to play the same reel as the old man. Voldemort began clapping in time with the tune, and his followers did the same. He moved away from Lindsay and conjured a large elaborate throne. He sat on it with theatrical refinement. "Lucius!" bellowed Voldemort and Lindsay stopped playing. He rose from his thrown with cat-like agility and was at her side hissing in her ear. "Did I tell you to stop playing?"

Lindsay chose an oblique answer. "You spoke, so I stopped."

"Aren't you the mannerly one," said Voldemort sweetly. Bizarrely, he began passing his hand over Lindsay's tangled hair, smoothing it. "Play," he repeated, "and don't stop until I tell you to." Lindsay raised her bow and began playing without saying another word. Her eyes still averted to the floor. Voldemort returned to his throne. Lucius Malfoy was standing next to it waiting for his orders. "Pick one."

Lucius raised his walking stick and immediately chose the boy. He flung the boy down onto the cold stone floor with such force that he was momentarily dazed. Another Death Eater stepped forward and roughly pulled the boy to his feet. The boy cried out and lifted his leg, clutching his injured knee. His face and nose were bloodied from the fall. "Dance," ordered Lucius.

"I can't," replied the boy. "My leg--"

Lucius pulled his wand from its hiding place inside his walking stick and cried, "Crucio!" The boy fell to the ground. His body contorted in ways Lindsay had never thought possible; and she'd seen psychiatric patients who were capable of some bizarre and disturbing gymnastics. Lucius relented and the boy lay panting; saliva and blood dripped from his mouth. "Get up!" commanded Lucius knowing full well that the boy was unable. An amused grin crossed Lucius' features as the boy tried and failed several times to rise. The other Death Eaters laughed and jeered.

Again Lucius told him to stand, and this provoked the boy's temper. "I can't!" the boy shouted. Lucius sliced the air with his wand and a deep gash appeared on the boy's face. Grim realization finally dawned on him, and he began to beg for his life. "Please, my mum is sick. I'm all she has." Lucius slashed him again. "Please let me go to her. I won't tell anyone." Lucius slashed the boy each time he spoke.

Voldemort was showing signs of discontent; fidgeting and twiddling his wand. He was bored. Lucius crucioed the boy again. He screamed for only a minute or two before going unconscious. The extreme sensory overload of the Cruciatus Curse combined with blood loss was too much for him. He laid silent on the stone floor, eyes half shut, while his body continued to writhe and twitch.

"Avada kedavra," said Voldemort. He was so bored that he practically yawned the words. "Very nice, Lucius, but you're out of practice."

"Shall I remove it, my Lord?" said Lucius.

"No, that's not a task befitting your station. McNabb, remove that!" Voldemort's eyes traveled across the faces of his followers. "You three," he said and pointed at them. "Finish that one." He flicked his index finger toward the ceiling. The largest of the three, a great hulking man, grinned salaciously as he brought down the woman, the last remaining muggle, from the ceiling. He threw her over his shoulder and took her into an adjoining room. There he stripped her bare and threw her on a garish red chaise lounge, which he enlarged to make himself more comfortable. The woman struggled very little, but the men still beat her. They took turns with her.


	34. Chapter 34

Through all of this horror, Lindsay continued to play her violin. She played any pleasant melody her terrified mind could recall. That violin was her last refuge; the only family member she had left and she clung to it with both body and mind. The familiar feel of its curved body under her chin, the graceful sliding of her hand on its neck, and her nimble fingers dancing on its fingerboard were the only comforts she could call upon. She let her eyes rest on it as she played.

"Look!" shouted the poor woman. "Look at me!"

"I think she likes it," said one of the men. The rest laughed except for Lucius. He looked disgusted, but he dared not look away for fear of incurring his master's wrath.

Lindsay raised her eyes to meet the woman's. Her bruised and swollen eyes were wide with fear. She locked eyes with Lindsay and refused to turn away; it was her one truly defiant act. Lindsay felt sick, but couldn't avert her eyes. After a moment, she realized that the woman had ceased to blink. They wouldn't need to use the Killing Curse on her. She'd passed away with one of them still on top of her.

"Enough!" hissed Voldemort. He rose imperiously from his throne. An angry swish from his wand turned Lindsay's violin to ash that wafted gently to the floor. The three men hurried out to him and prostrated themselves before him. "This is the respect that you show me?" The men didn't know how to reply and muttered incomprehensibly. "Fornicating with a muggle," said Voldemort viciously. "You've reduced my noble cause to a display of coarse depravity. You're not fit to grovel at my feet."

"But, my Lord," protested the smallest of the three. He didn't get to finish speaking.

"Avada kedavra!" shouted Voldemort. He crucioed the remaining two and, as an afterthought, crucioed Lindsay as well. She had no description for the pain that she felt. Every sort of physical pain she'd ever experienced in her life invaded her body and was magnified tenfold. She lost all sense of time. Her body twisted and contorted and she was unable to hold back the screams. Moments later, Voldemort released the curse and turned his attention to someone new. "Ah, Severus, so good of you to come." His tone was gracious.

"My Lord," replied Snape with a courteous bow of his head.

"You've missed most of the fun, Severus, but there is one last to be dealt with." Voldemort flicked his wand and Lindsay felt herself rising up from the floor. He raised his wand and was about to kill her, when he stopped, cocked his head, looked closely at her eyes, and then moved toward her. He ran his hand through her dark-red hair and said, "This is what you like, isn't it, Severus?" He spoke as if he'd just picked up Snape's favorite snack from a grocery store shelf. "This one looks better than the last. Well, after a bit of clean-up, perhaps. She is yours—a gift."

"Thank you, my Lord," said Snape, his face an inscrutable marble-white mask.

"I am a most generous Lord, am I not?"

Snape bowed his head reverently, and gripped Lindsay's arm tightly. "Indeed, my Lord."

"Don't be bashful, Severus," said Voldemort; once again his mood had changed abruptly. His manner moved from gracious to threatening in a heartbeat's time. His expression was dangerous and his eyes cold. "Entertain us." He waved his hand toward the same room where Lindsay had seen the other woman die.

Snape didn't hesitate. He dragged Lindsay roughly across the room. He stood in the doorway and pushed Lindsay onto the magically expanded lounge. It was covered with the other woman's blood. Lindsay's clothes were removed with a silent flick of his wand and landed in an untidy heap on the floor. The after effects of the Cruciatus made her weak, and she trembled uncontrollably. Every nerve and muscle in her body throbbed in pain. He leaned over her, picked up a lock of her hair, and trailed it between her breasts. As Snape began to climb onto her, the only thing she could think to do was grab his hair and pull. He caught her wrists and pushed her down into the cushion. He leaned in closely and whispered, "Do you want to live?" Something about the tone of his voice made her relax, and he released his hold. She could hear the men in the other room laughing loudly, and she felt humiliated. Cruciatus was preferable to this.

She gritted her teeth as the weight of Snape's body sent pain shooting through her. He focused his attention on the lock of hair, and his right hand reached under his robes. His arm jerked in rapid motions for a few seconds. She could feel his hand bumping her lower abdomen. She searched his face looking for some kind of comfort, but his eyes were fixed on the lock of hair. He moved lower, placing himself between her legs. He searched unsuccessfully before entering her. She felt searing pain as he carefully penetrated her. Her eyes watered from the pain and the tears ran down the sides of her face. He began pushing slowly, but quickly became overwhelmed and thrust faster and more deeply.

He grunted as his body shuddered. It took him only seconds, but the agony Lindsay felt made it seem like an eternity. He raised his head a little, and she could see the expression on his face. The look was fleeting, but it strongly resembled surprise and quickly turned to shame. When Snape realized that she was watching him, his face instantly hardened into a dead-eyed, unreadable, marble-white mask. He climbed off of her--his robes obscuring the doorway once again--and grabbed her arm, pulling her roughly to her feet. "Get dressed and stay here until I come for you." He turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Yaxley stopped Snape as he exited the room and whispered in his ear, "You didn't give us much of a show, Severus. I didn't see a thing."

"You'll have to use your imagination," said Snape.

"You're no fun at all."

"Finished so soon?" said Voldemort. A chorus of barely stifled laughs came from the Death Eaters standing around him. "Well, no matter. Does she please you?"

"Very much, my Lord," replied Snape.

"Excellent." Voldemort stared menacingly into Snape's eyes for several seconds, looking much like a cat ready to pounce on an unsuspecting mouse. Snape stood passively; his face was a white mask and the dark tunnels that were his eyes seemed endless. Voldemort smiled abruptly and turned to test one of his other servants. The remaining Death Eaters were eyeing Snape suspiciously. Lucius looked cool as always.

Lindsay was trembling so badly that it made dressing very difficult. It seemed to take forever to get her clothes back on; bra and shoes were the most difficult items to get on. Her body refused to do what she wanted. Fine motor skills were the most strongly affected. A small clump of Snape's greasy hair clung to her fingers. She stuffed it into the pocket of her jeans for fear that the Death Eaters might see it and punish her for it. She sat on the floor at the opposite end of the room from the chaise lounge. Her eyes lingered on the blood spatters soaking into the fine expensive fabric. She wondered how long it would take Snape to get back to her, and if he'd kill her, or torture her, or both. Sirius' warning rang in her ears, but she remembered Remus' words too. She was too frazzled and in too much pain to think clearly. All she wanted to do was crawl in bed and sleep the rest of her life away.

At last, the door slowly opened and dim gray light poured into the room. The room Voldemort occupied was deathly silent. Lindsay picked her head up from her knees and realized that she must've dozed off. A black-clad figure moved quickly and gracefully toward her, grabbed her arm, and pulled her to her feet. A pair of glittering black eyes glared into her exhausted blue ones. Snape raised his wand slowly, and he appeared to wink at her. She didn't trust her hazy vision and thought that she'd imagined it, or perhaps he'd twitched, but then he did it again.

"Obliviate," said Snape, but nothing actually happened. She saw the word 'relax' appear very clearly in her mind, and it was in Snape's spiky handwriting. He was taking a great chance communicating with her in such a way. If Voldemort looked into her mind, he'd see the message Snape gave her.

"Hello, Professor, nice to see you," said Lindsay cheerfully. A chorus of hearty laughter erupted from the other room. She forced herself to sound lively, and hoped that this is what Snape wanted from her. He put his wand away and walked her out of the room. "I've never been in this part of the dungeons before."

"These are my personal rooms," replied Snape conversationally.

"Oh, they're quite large," replied Lindsay. "Were you having a party? I hope I didn't interrupt."

"Not at all, my guests were just leaving."

The conversation continued until they exited Malfoy Manor and were greeted by the crisp night air. They walked along a stone path, but Lindsay was too tired to take in her surroundings. It took all of her remaining strength just to stay awake. Snape held on to her tightly and disapparated without warning. They reappeared outside Hogwarts. Snape swished his wand and something silver shot out of it. Lindsay was leaning heavily on him by this point. Albus appeared within seconds. He disapparated taking all three of them with him. They reappeared in his office.

"How did we get here?" said Lindsay taking in the comforting familiarity of Albus' office.

"The usual rules don't apply to me dear," replied Albus gently as he sat her on a couch and delicately tucked a thick soft blanket around her. He turned to Snape and his tone was more urgent. "What happened?"

"There are three bodies," replied Snape, "an elderly man, a young woman, and a teenage boy."

"I'll tell Remus. What else?"

"She's been crucioed. I must get some potions." Snape turned and hurried out of the room without further comment. Albus moved to the fireplace and firecalled Remus. Lindsay heard Remus' soothing voice, but couldn't make out his muffled reply.

Albus returned and sat next to Lindsay. "What happened, Lin?"

"Death Eaters...in the park; it happened so fast. I woke up in an old manor house. They killed three people, Albus. I watched it all."

Lindsay sobbed and Albus handed her a handkerchief that smelled of lilac. "Take your time, Lin."

"I did it, Albus. I don't know how I managed it, but I did it."

"What's that, dear?"

"I held my defenses. They did...things...to me, but I held back." Albus didn't need Legilimency to know what she was talking about. He felt angry and nauseated at the thought of such wickedness, but held his feelings in check to offer Lindsay the comfort she needed. "I knew I'd be no match for him, Albus. I knew he'd blast through my defenses as easily as you do. So I did nothing."

"You did the right thing, Lin." Albus patted her hand. "You did what you had to, to survive and there is no shame in that."

Snape returned carrying two goblets. He said nothing as he stood in front of Lindsay and handed one of the goblets to her.

"What is it?" said Lindsay.

"It will ease the effects of the Cruciatus." Lindsay took the goblet and downed it quickly. The trembling ceased, and she began to feel sleepy. Her taught muscles were quickly relaxing.

Snape handed her the other goblet. "What's this one for?" Snape didn't reply. "What is it, Professor?" said Lindsay harshly.

"A contraceptive potion," mumbled Snape quickly.

"No," said Lindsay and pushed it away.

"You must take it," insisted Snape.

"If anything's there, I'm keeping it," replied Lindsay. Snape's grip on the goblet tightened and he looked as if wanted to throw the goblet at her. Albus waved his hand and both goblets disappeared. Minerva entered wearing a tartan dressing gown and her hair was down in a long braid. She took one look at Lindsay and immediately noted the lost broken look in her eyes. She knew what had happened, the one act of violence that all women dreaded. She sat next to the trembling girl and wrapped her arms around her. Lindsay sobbed.

"Cruciatus, Minerva," said Albus. "Severus has given her a potion to relieve the symptoms. She needs rest now."

"Of course, Albus. You'll stay in my quarters for the night, young lady, and I won't take no for answer." Lindsay just nodded. She was already fighting sleep. Albus and Minerva helped her rise, and Minerva escorted her out."


	35. Chapter 35

"Are you prepared to be a father, Severus?" said Albus pleasantly.

Snape whirled around in a rage. "She told you?" he shouted viciously.

"No, I deduced it and you just confirmed it." Albus moved to sit in a chair and quietly made himself a cup of tea with extra sugar. He watched as Severus destroyed some of his more expensive magical wares. Severus stalked alongside a long table, extended his arm and knocked a large number of silver instruments onto the floor. Albus would repair them later. He let Severus work off some of his temper otherwise it would eventually find itself being directed at students when term started, and that would be unacceptable. Snape stalked to the chair opposite Albus and dropped himself into it.

"The Dark Lord has never made me do that before. It's not one of his favorite torture methods, but he's always tolerated it from the Death Eaters who like it. He's never punished anyone for it, but tonight he killed Pearson and crucioed two others. He's testing us, and pitting us against each other."

"What better way to keep one's followers in line then to have them police each other," said Albus. "I expect that he knows Lindsay's a guest of mine?"

"I believe so, yes."

"And he thinks her a muggle?"

"Most likely," said Snape. "If he thought her a witch, he likely would have killed her due to her inferior magical ability."

"Inferior," repeated Albus, "except for those peculiarities."

"He gave her to me," said Snape. His tone and expression showed utter contempt. "He called her a gift."

Albus' jaw set. He sipped his tea before speaking. "So Tom let her live to torment me. He's showing me his power, and telling me that I can't protect my own even within Hogwarts's walls." Albus set his tea down and leaned forward. "We will let him think this, Severus. The more confident he is in his own power, the more mistakes he will make."

"Understood."

"You mustn't blame yourself, my boy," began Albus kindly, but Snape wouldn't hear it. He sprang up from the chair and hurried out of the room. Albus would follow along later and repair the portraits and other damaged items that will be littering the way to the dungeons.

###

Lindsay insisted on washing before resting, and Minerva let her. She insisted only that the girl finish quickly before she fell asleep on her feet. Minerva conjured another bed next to hers and helped Lindsay get into it. She was asleep almost immediately. Minerva sat up in her own bed going over her syllabus for the upcoming year. Term would be starting in few days.

Lindsay slept about four hours. Minerva heard her rise and called for a house elf to bring sandwiches and a pot of tea. The two women sat a small round table.

"You must eat, Lin."

"I'm not very hungry, Minerva."

"That's a side effect of the Cruciatus. Trust me; you'll feel better if you eat. Just try a little."

"I saw him, Minerva; You-Know-Who. I've never been so terrified."

"It's alright, dearie. You're safe at Hogwarts now."

"It could've been so easy. All I had to do was insult him or try to fight him, and it all would've been over. But I just stood there, playing my violin while those other people died."

"If you're referring to that not-so-secret desire of yours to end your life, I've been well aware of it for some time. Someone as intelligent as you should have realized by now that if you truly wanted to die, you would've found a way long ago. Really, Lindsay, this penchant of yours for self-pity is distasteful and un-Gryffindorish.

"He killed a boy, Minerva. He was crying for his mother at the end. That boy was more courageous than me."

"You're being much too hard on yourself."

"That woman kept looking at me, looking into my eyes, and I just kept playing. I just stood there. I didn't even say anything. I'm a coward."

"Nonsense," said Minerva as she reached across the little table and took Lindsay's hand, "you're a survivor. That young woman sought security in your eyes and you gave it to her. You comforted her in the only way you could. There's no way you could've fought off an entire room full of Death Eaters, and you're certainly no match for You-Know-Who. You did what you had to do."

Lindsay moved into her own quarters the next day with protests from Minerva that she shouldn't be alone. She took her meals in her quarters and avoided the Great Hall. She slept little and paced the school grounds during the day. Hogwarts didn't feel right when it was empty. It felt like a sleepy distracted place. It came alive when the students returned almost like it had been resurrected.

With the commotion and clamor of hundreds of laughing gregarious students, came Lindsay's own vibrancy. She loved people. She needed companionship. The youngest students were her favorites because of their unending ability to see humor in mundane things. They were still young enough not to know the darkness that exists in life. She needed their innocence to help her heal.

Snape watched Lindsay from the behind the safety of a stone pillar. She was playing with some of the first and second year students; the "little ones" as she called them. It was nearly three weeks since the event. He'd been observing her at a distance, but otherwise avoided contact with her. He was deeply pained by the shattered look in her eyes. Lily would be ashamed of him if she knew what he'd done and wouldn't understand that he'd had no choice in the matter, and that hurt him more than anything.

Even now as she played with the children, all of them covered in mud and grass, she was laughing and wrestling with them and that shattered look remained. He knew what he'd done was wrong. He caused her tremendous pain, but justified his actions because he saved her life and likely his own as well. He would never have chosen to do that to her or anyone else, but the Dark Lord must be obeyed.

The Dark Lord knew that Severus didn't enjoy that type of activity as some of the other Death Eaters did. Even Lucius only participated half-heartedly. Lucius also didn't care for the more vulgar Death Eater activities, preferring to observe rather than participate. Lucius was too interested in his beautiful Narcissa to be bothered with other women. He participated just enough to keep the Dark Lord from tormenting him too much, but even he would've acquiesced had the Dark Lord insisted.

The Dark Lord perpetually probed them for signs of weakness. A spit-second of hesitation could forfeit one's life. Lindsay would have no way of understanding the Dark Lord's whims, but Severus did. Sometimes one just had to grit one's teeth and bear it. It was a pity that Lindsay was having such difficulty moving past it, but Severus had no regrets...well, almost none. There was one thing that really nagged him; the feeling of it. It was such a shock to him, and he was shamed by it. The act was unpleasant, but the physical sensation was anything but.

The very idea of intimate contact with anyone other than Lily left a bitter taste in his mouth. Skin-on-skin contact was unappealing, but the thought of exchanging body fluids was...ugh! Severus rolled his shoulders as his back began to itch. It wasn't like he'd never had opportunities. There hadn't been many, mind you, but there'd been a few; some had even been muggles. But he refused to do what his mother had done and settle for the first person who showed an interest in him. The things he'd seen in those women's eyes made him cringe. Lily would never have done those things. Lily was pure and loving, not cold and sleazy like those other women.

Severus remembered one woman in particular. He was very young and relaxing in a tavern. He sat in a dark corner by himself. The woman had eyed him for some time before sitting next to him uninvited. She spoke to him, but he ignored her. Her voice was pleasant and gentle. She mistook his silence for shyness and proceeded to touch him; first she stroked his hand, which he moved; then she touched his hair. He moved her hand away. He thought that she'd finally gotten the message when she stood, but instead of leaving, she planted herself on his lap. He tried to be gentlemanly and told her to get off him. She ignored him and began tracing her finger along his cheek. He stood and let her fall to the floor and stalked out. He never returned to that tavern and generally avoided them altogether. The memory of her touch made him grimace and scratch his face.

As impossible as it might seem, there were even a few students that had developed crushes on him. He had no interest in children and no patience with their immature infatuations. A well-placed remark about their appearance was enough to put an end to the silliness.

All of those women had seen something in him that wasn't there. The woman in the tavern thought he was shy and inexperienced. He was, and still is inexperienced, but it was by choice and not by necessity as some might think. The other women wanted to be dominated and assumed, because of his well-cultivated façade, that he was capable of such behavior. He wanted no part of such illicit activities. He wanted love. He wanted Lily; Lily was love. She never ridiculed him, and she never looked at him with derision in her eyes.

Lily accepted his ugliness. Lucius accepted it too. Narcissa pretended to accept him—even trust him, but he knew better. The Malfoys treated him like a talented but poor cousin whom they could use while maintaining their feeling of superiority because of their immense wealth. The idea of being wealthy had once been very important to Severus. In fact, Lucius had once represented everything Severus wanted to be. None of those things held any appeal for him now.

Miss Gray not only accepted his ugliness, but she even seemed not to notice it. He would've thought her a superb Occlumens had she not been so perpetually open with her thoughts. He was baffled by her. She had shocked him so much the first time he met her that he wasn't able to hold her gaze. People normally presented him with one of three reactions: fear, loathing, or a combination of the two. Miss Gray just greeted him.

Even as a child, people treated him with contempt. One of his earliest memories was standing in a shop, knee-high to his mother, when two old muggle women caught notice of him. They spoke softly, thinking he couldn't hear. "What an unfortunate-looking child," said the one. "Looks like his mother," replied the other. He hadn't known what unfortunate meant, but he could tell by their expressions that it wasn't complimentary. He tried to bury his face in his mother's skirt, but she walked away, leaving him exposed.

A few years later, after his mother had stopped leaving the house and sent him to do the shopping instead, he'd seen those two old women again. They were loudly praising a beautiful little fair-haired boy and plying him with sweets. At that moment, Severus wondered if his life would've been different had he been born beautiful. He knew that there was no way that he could become beautiful, but someday he would have beauty, own it; and he almost succeeded. He would've won Lily if Potter and company hadn't entered her life and twisted her against him. Lily wasn't only beautiful; she was intelligent and magically gifted. Even the likes of Lucius Malfoy would've been grateful to have won her hand if she hadn't been muggle-born.

His walk home marked the start of a years-long recurring event. A group of muggle boys followed him and knocked the bag out of his hands, roughed him up a bit, and ran away with his father's favorite cake. Severus' mother went pale when he told her what had happened. She scolded him and left her handprint on his face. Of course, that had been nothing compared to what his father had done when he found out that he'd have no dessert. Severus' mother had been quick to lay blame on her son, but she was nursing fresh bruises of her own. Sometimes her ploy worked and sometimes it didn't. It worked that night as his father had chased him into the sitting room and beat him with his belt. He'd hit Severus so hard that he'd wet himself, which gave his father a second wind and he beat Severus into a stupor.

The children's laughter brought Severus out of his dark reverie. He watched as Lindsay tried to run with a first year on her back and two more clinging to her belt. They brought her down quickly and they rolled on the ground in a dog pile, laughing. Lindsay rose to catch her breath, a muddy disheveled mess. As she straightened her raised and twisted shirt, Severus saw the bare white skin of her stomach and was reminded of the delicate softness of it. She had sharp lines on her stomach outlining the muscles there. They were visibly defined, but not overly prominent. Severus had no idea that a woman could look like that. He surmised that it must be from all the dancing, which she did frequently and was often accompanied by groups of students. Severus thought only men had clearly defined muscles; other men, of course, certainly not himself. He didn't even have enough muscle in his abdomen to give him a flat stomach. His stomach curved inward and didn't even meet his hip bones. Perhaps I should take up dancing.

The hoot of an owl drew Snape's attention. It dropped a letter in his hand and flew off. He peeled the letter open and quickly scanned it before slipping it into his robes. He needed to run an errand and would have to inform Dumbledore.


	36. Chapter 36

"Hello, Severus, what can I help you with?" said Dumbledore from behind his large desk. Several parchments lay open on his desk, each with a quill scratching furiously on them.

"Good afternoon, Headmaster," replied Snape. "I need to run an errand. I shan't be gone more than an hour."

"Very well, Severus. Do you have a minute to spare before you leave?"

Severus desperately wanted to say no, but he knew what was coming and it was best to get it over with. "Of course."

Dumbledore rose, moved from behind his desk, and stood in front of Severus. "Term has begun and you still haven't spoken to Lindsay. She needs closure. She needs to put this unpleasantness behind her and so do you."

"What I need is none of your concern."

Dumbledore sighed. "There's no cause to be defensive, Severus."

"Why did you bring her here?" said Snape.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that. It's for your own safety, you understand," said Dumbledore.

"She doesn't belong here," asserted Snape.

"I beg to differ."

"You've made her a target."

The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes stilled, and he looked away from Snape. "I regret that, Severus. I did not foresee any harm coming to her...or to you. I'm sorry. I truly am. But what's been done cannot be undone. We must move on." Dumbledore began to pace. "I request that you cease her Potions lessons and begin teaching her Occlumency instead."

"I thought you were teaching her Occlumency."

"I have been, but I think she'll benefit more from your style of teaching than from mine."

"As you wish, Headmaster," said Snape coldly. He turned on his heel and left.

It was after ten in the evening when Lindsay received a note from Professor Snape telling her that he'd escort her to his office for her lesson. There was a knock at her door ten minutes later. Snape was always punctual.

"Good evening, Professor."

"Miss Gray," Snape nodded curtly and turned for her to follow him. He didn't explain why he was escorting her, but she surmised it was because of Professor Umbridge. The woman despised her and openly disapproved of her presence in the castle. Lindsay no longer walked the halls in the evenings and stopped taking her meals in the Great Hall. So far she'd been very successful in avoiding Umbridge.

They entered Snape's office in silence. He pointed to a chair, and Lindsay assumed he meant for her to sit. He walked behind his desk and leaned down to the floor. He walked back to her carrying a small package wrapped in a thick piece of musty old canvas. He set it on the small table next to her and took three deliberate steps backward.

"It's okay, Professor. I'm not afraid of you." Snape didn't reply. Lindsay placed her hand on the musty canvas. "Is this for me?"

"Is there anyone else in the room?" replied Snape.

Lindsay had learned to take Snape's snarky attitude in stride and began unfolding the layers of dirty canvas. Inside was an ornately decorated, black, antique violin case. She gently ran her fingers across the top before opening it. The interior of the case was finished in blue velvet. It housed one antique violin and two bows. She gently lifted the violin out of its case and turned it over. It was clearly very old. There were signs of wear all over it. It had small dings and light scratches and wear marks, but it was beautiful. Her old violin was a dark reddish brown with a straighter grain on the back; this one was much blonder and had striking flamed-maple back and sides. Its ebony fingerboard contrasted sharply with its light-colored body. Lindsay picked it up and began to play. The sound it produced was even more beautiful than its exquisite appearance. This was a superior instrument and much too good for a mediocre musician like Lindsay.

"This must have cost you a fortune," said Lindsay. She was so awed by the gift that she was barely able to find the breath to speak.

"Never mind the cost. Do you like it?" replied Snape.

"I love it." She carefully set the instrument back in its case. Snape was stunned by what she did next. She moved to him, hugged him tightly, and kissed his cheek. He didn't know what to do with his hands, so he kept them at his sides. Feeling her body pressing against him stirred up emotions he wasn't prepared to deal with. He felt guilty so he closed himself off. His face turned marble white, and his eyes became long dark tunnels.

"Excellent," was all he could think to say.

"I didn't think you were listening," said Lindsay as she released him. She thought he'd been ignoring her prattling. Snape didn't respond to the comment and stood rigidly in front of her. "I don't blame you, Professor. You did what you had to do, and so did I. Logically I can understand that, but emotionally I'm still working things out."

Snape nodded and moved away from her. "I trust the Headmaster has told you why you're here."

"He has, yes."

"I will attempt to penetrate your mind; you will attempt to block me. Prepare yourself," said Snape as he drew his wand. Lindsay had barely enough time to draw her own wand before Snape said, "Legilimens." This was nothing like Albus' gentle probing. Lindsay felt as if she'd stepped in front of a speeding train. Every muscle in her body was straining against the force of Snape's mind. Recent memories began to fly through her consciousness at an amazing rate of speed: dinner with the Weasleys, laughing with the twins, consoling Neville after another disastrous DADA class, chatting with Remus and Sirius, lunch with Pomona and Neville. Snape suddenly broke the connection and Lindsay staggered backward a little. She was sweating, and her body trembled from exertion.

"The goal is to block me from entering your mind," said Snape. His arms were folded across his chest while he allowed Lindsay to rest.

"Sorry, Professor, I've never been hit that hard before. You took me by surprise."

"That is the point. Now empty your mind and shut me out." He hit her just as hard as the first time, but she was prepared for the physical strain. Mentally she was unable to cope with the strength of Snape's mind. Older memories began shuffling through her consciousness; memories she would have preferred to keep buried.

She stood in a very old churchyard with a large crowd of other mourners and watched as her parents and siblings were laid to rest. Next to her, holding her hand, was an uncommonly handsome man. He was tall, slim, broad-shouldered, and fair-complected, with dark-blonde hair and flashing dark-green eyes. Many of the women and some of the men present glanced at him frequently during the ceremony.

This memory dissolved and was replaced by another, equally unhappy one. A very young Lindsay lay on her back with the heavy unwelcome weight of a blonde man on top of her. This was the first time it happened, only a couple of weeks after the funeral. She kept her eyes shut tightly. Her hands gripped the sheets. He grunted and the bed squeaked with every vigorous uncaring thrust. His breath reeked of whiskey.

That memory faded and Snape dug up another. Young Lindsay was standing at the top of a staircase. She was in her nightdress and nervously waiting for a tall and very handsome man to climb to the top of the stairs. He smiled as he approached her. His teeth were a lustrous white. "I've been thinking about you all evening," said the man in a pleasant-sounding baritone. He bent down and gently kissed the end of Lindsay's nose. A great flash of blue light erupted before the man's lips lifted away from her, and he was propelled down the long carpeted staircase. He lay at the bottom with his head sitting at a grotesquely odd angle, his gleaming white teeth still visible in a half-faded smile.

Another burst of blue light clouded Snape's vision, and he felt himself being propelled backwards onto his desk. The force of this outburst was much more controlled than the one he'd just witnessed in Lindsay's memory, and he was grateful for it. "Now I know the reasons for your fear of magic and your aversion to alcohol," said Snape as he righted himself.

"I can't believe you just did that to me," her voice sounded cold and was barely louder than a whisper. Her chest heaved from both exertion and temper. Her jaw was set in anger as she turned for the door, leaving her things behind. Snape made it to the door just as she put her hand on the knob. He slammed his hand on the door to keep her from opening it.

"You think what the Dark Lord had me do–you think it was a coincidence? Using someone you know and trust to..." Lindsay stopped and looked at him, a frown knitted between her brows. His expression looked desperate. "Yes," said Snape. "He was in your mind, and you're lucky that he was amused by what he saw and chose not to probe more deeply."

"But I didn't feel anything," said Lindsay.

"Because the Dark Lord didn't want you to."

"I thought I closed him out," said Lindsay with a slight tremble in her lip.

"The Dark Lord is a very powerful Legilimens. Your attempt at blocking him was...admirable."

Lindsay returned to the chair Snape had her sit in earlier. She placed her hand on the violin case seeking the only comfort she could find. "I've spent years burying that memory, and you dug it up in an instant." Snape sat on a stool a few feet away from her looking uncomfortable. He dropped his gaze and turned his head slightly away from her view. His hands rested on his knees; his arms and shoulders were rigid.

Lindsay sat silently for a few moments, staring at the floor. "He was good friend of my parents. His name was Adam. My sister had a massive crush on him, as did I...for a while anyway. Women just loved him; they fawned over him. He always had a new girlfriend on his arm when he'd visit, each one more glamorous than the last. He seemed larger than life. I didn't have any family to go to after the accident, so I went with him. My mother considered him one of her dearest friends. He was great at first, but it didn't last." She stopped for a moment, unsure as to whether she should continue, but felt compelled to do so. "I felt happy when I saw him sprawled at the bottom of the stairs. I was happy that he died. I still feel that way, and I hate myself for it. I hate the ugliness in me."

"Surely you don't expect pity from me?"

"If I'd expected that, I wouldn't have said anything." Lindsay took a band out of her pocket and tied her hair back. "I went to live with his mother after. She was a darling woman, very elderly. She'd married late and Adam was her only child. She thought the world of him, and I let her have that. I learned a terrible, but extremely important lesson. I learned about the ugliness that people can hide within themselves. It was hard for me to understand because I'd come from a family who stressed kindness, love, and forgiveness. It was like entering another world, much like coming to Hogwarts only far less pleasant." Lindsay stood. "I'm ready for another go if you are." Snape stood without a word and they both resumed their former places. They tried several more times, each with the same result.

"You're tired. We should stop," said Snape as he pulled out an old grey handkerchief and handed it to Lindsay to wipe the blood that had begun to drip from her nose.

"No," snapped Lindsay. "We're gonna keep doing this 'til I get it right."

"You've had enough..."

"I'll tell you when I've had enough," she growled. She was pacing before him like a caged animal.

"Legilimens," said Snape maliciously. He deliberately made her relive her worst memories, but stopped when faced with his own wrongdoing. He couldn't bear to relive it. "This is pointless," he snapped. "You can't learn Occlumency if you can't control your anger. You need to empty your mind of emotion."

"I can do this." Lindsay took a deep breath and stared at the floor for several seconds. She raised her eyes slowly. Her demeanor was calm but resolute. "Hit me." Once again Snape found himself ensconced in Lindsay's mind, but it felt decidedly different from before. It was like being inside a child's cartoon. Everything was bright and colorful and unnaturally cheerful. He was unable to locate her true memories and pulled away.

"That was very clever, Miss Gray," said Snape. Lindsay had performed an obscure method of Occlumency that few were able to implement, and one that Snape used frequently when in the presence of either Dumbledore or the Dark Lord. "You chose diversion over an emotional void."

"It felt right," replied Lindsay as she flopped into the chair and rested her aching head in her hands. Snape was also tired and perched himself on the stool in front of her. "May I ask you something, Professor?" She didn't wait for a reply. "Is it true what people say, that you're a Death Eater? I know you associate with You-Know-Who, but are you a true follower?" He pulled the sleeve on his left arm up to his elbow and held his arm out for her see. Her reaction shocked him. She didn't recoil as he'd expected. Instead, she gently ran her fingers over the faint black outline as a line formed between her brows. He waited for her to raise her eyes so he could see them. His eyes glittered darkly. When she raised her eyes to look at him, he expected to see anger, revulsion, or even hate, but he didn't see any of those things. Her eyes showed him compassion. He jerked his sleeve back down and bolted up from the stool, turning his back on her as he stalked away. He was unsure of what to say or how to react. "He may have branded you, but that doesn't make you his."

"You know nothing!" barked Snape.

"You're as changeable as the weather, Professor. You show one face to You-Know-Who, another to the students, and yet another to Albus. Which one is the real you?" He didn't reply. "Most people mistakenly believe that beauty opens all doors; that lives are made easy because of it." She looked at Snape who was expressionless. "But I showed you what beauty really brings and what it does. Keep your dirty hair and your harshness. You're much safer with them." Her words cut into him as though someone had opened his chest just to peer inside. He felt naked. He gathered his cloak tightly about himself. Lindsay had a unique ability to poke holes in his confidence and take him by surprise. She was a most peculiar witch.

Lindsay rose and collected her things. "I don't need an escort, Professor. I can brave Umbridge's wrath this once. Thanks again for the violin. It truly is beautiful."

"Adam got what he deserved," said Snape as Lindsay closed his office door.


	37. Chapter 37

"I don't understand why you're leaving," said Neville. A small group had collected around Lindsay's fireplace. All of her things were packed and stacked on the coffee table.

"We all know Umbridge hates me, and it's only a matter of time before she evicts me from the castle."

"She hasn't the authority," said Hermione.

"Not yet," replied Lindsay.

"You're not coming back, are you?" said Ginny.

"No, I really don't belong here. We all know that."

"You shouldn't let Umbridge get to you," said Fred.

"It's for the best," said Lindsay.

"No, it's not," said George.

"It's nearly Christmas anyway, and I always have plans for the holidays. Stop looking so forlorn. You're all making me feel bad. Would hugs be too much to ask?" George held out until last, and had just released his embrace when Professor Snape walked in unannounced.

"All of you go back to your common room," said Snape without actually looking at any of the students. He caught Lindsay's eye and pointed to the pile of bags and cases on the coffee table. "Is that everything?"

"Yes, Professor."

Snape shrunk Lindsay's belongings and put them in his pocket. He moved to the fireplace, threw a handful of floo powder in, and stepped into the resulting green flames and disappeared.

"I hope you'll all keep in touch and visit. You know how much I love having house guests. I have to go; can't keep the Professor waiting." Lindsay turned and disappeared into the emerald flames. Just as soon as she was gone, the fireplace began to shrink and disappear. The furniture did the same. Then the walls began to close in.

"The room's closing," said George morosely and everyone began to file out, except for Neville.

"They do seem to be getting chummy," said Hermione as she exited the shrinking room.

"Give it a rest, Granger," said Fred.

"I merely stated my observation," replied Hermione snottily.

Ginny tugged his hand. "Time to go, Neville."

###

Lindsay emerged in her dining room patting dust off of her clothes. "Where do you want your things?" said Snape.

"Just leave them on the table please. I'll put everything away in a bit." Snape did as requested. He drew his wand and walked to the doorway murmuring under his breath.

"What are you doing, Professor?"

"Warding your house."

"Against what?"

Snape dropped his wand and whirled around. "Surely you can't be that stupid?"

"I certainly hope not," replied Lindsay. "But I can't imagine why any Death Eaters would storm my home when they know I belong to one of their fellows."

"Don't think that associating with me affords you any safety. The Dark Lord is capricious."

"Alright, Professor, do as you see fit." Lindsay set about unpacking and later left for a quick trip to the grocery store. The house was silent and undisturbed when she returned. She put her groceries away and went downstairs to check one of the rooms that always filled with water when it rained. She reached the bottom of the steps and a black-clad figure stepped in front of her. "Oh! Professor, you scared the bejesus out of me!"

"I told you I was warding the house."

"I thought you'd left."

"Obviously not." He pointed to the room he'd just exited. "You have a rather large amount of stored alcohol for a non-drinker."

"It came with the house. The former owner was a collector. Would you like any of it?"

"The Belgian ale looks appealing."

"I'll be right back. I have some beer mugs upstairs." Lindsay turned, but only managed to put a single foot on the bottom step.

"Accio beer mug," said Snape and a glass mug flew downstairs and into his hand. He handed it to her. "You know that spell. I'm sure you do."

"It doesn't work for me, Professor. I have to be touching something that the object is touching to manipulate it."

"Touch the wall; that should work."

"It's too far away."

She moved past him and entered the cold-room. She held the mug under the tap and began pouring the ale. Snape lurched forward and took hold of the mug, turning it on an angle. "You must hold it at an angle or it will be nothing but foam."

"Sorry, I didn't know that."

"Clearly." He sipped it, but didn't comment, nor did his expression change.

"Is it good?"

"Yes."

"Would you like a little tour of the...cellar?" Snape just glared at her. "I know you've been walking around the place, but it doesn't have the same ambiance without an escort." They stepped into the hall. "Those rooms down there were used mostly for storage. The fuse box is down there too." Lindsay moved into a long room that was completely devoid of decoration. It had a row of old windows facing the outside and an outside door. A second door sat off to one side. There was a large puddle on the stone floor. "This large room here was the original kitchen. The kitchen was moved upstairs in the forties, and I had it updated when I moved in. As you can see, this room collects rainwater. I meant to remodel the cellar rooms over the summer, but I did the garden instead. To be honest, I have no idea what to do with the space. The house is too much for me as it is."

Lindsay moved to the side door and attempted to force it open. The wood was swollen from all the dampness in the room. Snape took out his wand, pointed it at the door, and it swung open effortlessly; although the hinges did protest loudly. They entered a smaller room that was also completely empty and piled with the dirty accumulation of time and disuse. This room also had a door that led outside, but no window. It had a small closet and a bricked-up fireplace. "I'm not sure what this room was used for. I think it might have been a dining room for the help. The outside door in this room usually opens. The one in the kitchen always sticks."

Lindsay wrestled the door open to reveal an area that Snape hadn't found during his wandering. He looked around the doorjamb, but didn't go outside. It had rained heavily the day before and the entire area was flooded. It was a long narrow space that was walled-in on three sides. A crumbling flight of steps led up one side, in the direction of the main garden, and disappeared into the wild overgrown shrubbery that had been planted at the top of the walls and had grown unattended for decades. It was a dreary desolate space. Snape loved it. Its size and shape would be perfect for dueling.

"I have no idea what this space was used for," said Lindsay. "It seems a very unlikely place for an herb garden, or any kind of garden for that matter. It's just a mud pit now."

"You say you're unsure how to remodel this area. Would you be willing to consider some ideas?"

"Certainly, I would," said Lindsay excitedly. "I have a study upstairs. We can draw up some plans, if you like?"

###

"I do most of my writing in here," said Lindsay as she escorted Snape into her study. It was a cheerful sunny room decorated in lavender, pink, and soft yellow. She didn't change the original dark wood paneling, but the rest of the room was brightly colored and very feminine. "I have my art supplies in another larger room, but I keep a small drafting table in here. I did a little drafting in school. I haven't done much since then, but I can still draw up simple floorplans."

There was a tall stool in front of the drafting table and Snape conjured an identical one next to it and sat down. Lindsay was already seated and picking through her drafting supplies. She had a pencil in one hand and a compass in the other. "It won't take long to sketch out the cellar..."

Snape took hold of her hand and pulled the pencil out it, laying it on the drafting table. "Manual drawing will take too long, and I haven't all day to do this." Lindsay set her things on the table and wrung her hands. Snape's request made her nervous. He placed his long thin hand on her hands and squeezed lightly. "It's high time you faced your fears, Miss Gray. This Adam fellow's been dead for a long time. He can't hurt you anymore, and you won't hurt anyone either if you learn to accept and control your magic."

Lindsay placed all the tools she'd need on the table and rested her hands on the bottom. She knew she could do this and it took little effort for her to make the drawing tools speed across the paper. Snape sat silently next to her with his arms folded over his chest. It seemed a strange thing to her that his nearness didn't upset her. She found his company oddly comforting; not in the same way as Albus' uplifting presence, but a comfort in its own way.

She'd been physically close to him on numerous occasions. He usually smelled strongly of Potions ingredients, which could be anywhere from very pleasant to very unpleasant. Today was Saturday and Snape hadn't been brewing anything. Despite his appearance being as ill-groomed as ever, Lindsay could smell the light yet masculine scent of pine wafting from his body.

Snape's nearness didn't bring back visions of her evening with the Dark Lord; it was usually in nightmares that she relived those events. When she did recall those horrid events, it was always Adam's face she saw above her, not Snape's. He was a victim just as much as she and she just couldn't lay blame on him. The events of that terrible evening would haunt her for the rest of her life, but she would learn to deal with them in time. Snape was a complicated man and difficult to read, but Lindsay sensed humanity in him, a humanity that was deeply wounded and that compelled her to forgive him.

He had every opportunity to accost her, yet he neither said nor did anything untoward. Snape was his usual icy self. It could be argued that he feared Dumbledore's wrath if he took advantage of her, but Lindsay's intuition said otherwise. Snape was very clever and if he really wanted to hurt her, he could easily do it without anyone knowing. Lindsay's experience with Adam taught her how predatory men behave. Adam often flirted with her when her parents and siblings were out of the room or preoccupied. She was too young then to understand the true meaning behind his behavior. And later, when he had her alone, he took advantage of her helplessness and enjoyed every minute of it. Adam said things to her that he shouldn't have, he touched her in ways he shouldn't have, and he enjoyed her growing fear of him. In spite of his good looks and charm, Adam was the ugliest most frightful person she'd ever met, until she encountered Voldemort. Snape was nothing like either of them.

The drawing tools halted and piled themselves on the side of the table. Lindsay rested her hands on her knees. Snape immediately began talking, and his plans for the cellar were well thought out. He pointed at the floorplans as he spoke. "Those two empty rooms there will serve as storage for potions ingredients. I like to separate the innocuous ingredients from the dangerous ones. The room across the hall can store finished potions. The former kitchen will make an adequate Potions laboratory, and the room off the former kitchen will serve as a study. The 'mud pit,' as you refer to it, would make an excellent space for dueling. I suggest paving it in stone or brick and removing those steps that lead into the garden; they're crumbling and serve no useful purpose."

"I think I'd prefer stone over brick..."

"I don't care what it looks like, so I'll leave the finer details to you." Snape rose from the stool. "I must go. I have a meeting with the Headmaster." He disapparated with a tiny pop.

"I guess I have my orders then, " laughed Lindsay. She would take the floorplans to her contractor on Monday morning. She was eager to sort out the finer details of the remodeling and get construction underway.


	38. Chapter 38

Lindsay rose early Sunday morning, as was her habit, but didn't go for a jog. Instead she chose to visit her family's gravesites. She always spent extra time tending their graves and talking to them at the Christmas holidays. She bought red roses to lay on her father's and brother's graves, and pink roses for her mother's and sister's graves. It was a crisp sunny morning. The air smelled fresh and clean. The old churchyard was well tended and felt settled and serene. Adam had Lindsay's family buried here alongside several generations of his own family. Adam's grave was only two rows away, next to his own parents.

An elderly monk named Brother Timothy was mending a stone wall when Lindsay arrived. He was a thin man of small stature with shockingly blue eyes and tufty white hair sticking out from under his wooly hat. The aura around him was as serene as the ancient churchyard.

"Good morning, Brother Timothy."

"And a fine good morning to you, Lin," replied Brother Timothy. He set down his tools and turned to accept the friendly hug that Lindsay always offered. He offered his arm, which she took, and guided her to an old bench nearby to her family's plots. A thermos of coffee sat waiting for them. "I see that you haven't forgotten the roses." He offered Lindsay a sip from his thermos.

"Oh, my!" said Lindsay, grimacing. "I don't know how you can drink such strong coffee."

"It takes years of discipline to build up such a tolerance," Brother Timothy as he took back his thermos and proceeded to remove his gloves.

"The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak," replied Lindsay.

Brother Timothy poured himself a cup of black coffee and sat back on the hard cold bench holding the hot cup between his chilled fingers. "Will you be at Midnight Mass this year?"

"You ask me that every year."

"I'm an optimist," said Timothy. "I keep hoping for a different answer. Your family were church goers, weren't they?"

"Yes, I was raised Methodist, but my parents were more non-denominational in practice. They'd happily attend services in any place of worship."

"And yet you persistently avoid houses of worship," said Timothy.

"Attending church services was something we did as a family. It's one of those things a person doesn't think about. You just do it. Then when everyone's gone...well it's...it's just..." Lindsay pulled a handkerchief from her coat pocket and dabbed her eyes.

"It brings back too many memories. I understand," said Timothy. "But you may find that attending services brings you comfort."

"Maybe, but I don't think I'm ready just yet."

"Fair enough," said Timothy. He drained his cup and set it back on the thermos. "If you'll excuse me, I must get back to mending the wall."

"I know an excellent stone mason. I'll be seeing him tomorrow. I could ask him to come by and give an estimate."

"That's very kind, Lin, but I'm afraid the church's coffers are somewhat lacking."

"I mean it as a donation—an anonymous donation."

"Now how would a young thing like you afford that?" Brother Timothy stopped himself. "Forgive me, Lin. I blurted that."

Lindsay laughed. "It's okay; I don't mind. I have a very large inheritance. My grandfather was a wizard with finances. He's the sole reason my family became wealthy. Every generation before him had modest incomes. Everyone called him 'Big Red'. He and I were very close."

"You take after him then?"

"I do. I even dabble in the stock market with minor success, but I don't have Big Red's genius for it. So you'll accept the offer?"

"I'll need to speak to the pastor. I can't make that sort of decision on my own."

"Call me with the decision. You still have my number?"

"I do."

Lindsay reached inside her purse and pulled out her wallet. "I'll give you his business card so you know who you'll be dealing with. His name is Max Browning. He's my neighbors' nephew." Brother Timothy pocketed the card and rose with his thermos in hand. He said his farewells and began to walk away when Lindsay noticed that a branch from an old tree had fallen across the graves of her parents'. She was almost certain that she knew what sort of tree it was, but wanted to double check. "Before you go, can you tell me what kind of tree that is?"

"That's a rowan tree;" replied Brother Timothy, "odd for an English churchyard. Rowan trees are common in Welsh churchyards, but yew is more common in English churchyards. There's a Welsh businessman buried under it, and he requested that a rowan be planted over his grave. That's what I was told, at least. I can't verify it. But I do know plants and that's definitely a rowan tree."

"Why did he request a rowan tree specifically?"

"Rowan is supposed to protect against enchantment and evil spirits. I suppose he feared that his body would be subject to witchcraft after his passing." Lindsay's eyes widened and Brother Timothy laughed. "I think it more likely that he wanted to honor his Welsh heritage. Witchcraft indeed!"

"You don't believe in magic, Brother Timothy?"

"'Course not!" said Timothy as though he'd just been asked the most ridiculous question of his life. "I've never seen any evidence of it being real."

"I suppose the same thing could be said about God. Some people have claimed to have seen him, but there's no tangible proof."

"That will make an excellent conversation, Lin. And we'll have it when I have more time."

"Oh, that sounds interesting. We'll do lunch, or dinner, or we can do a long weekend because I talk a lot and I have plenty of room."

"I'll ring you up," said Timothy.

"Thank you, now you go inside and warm yourself in front of the fire."

"If only life were that easy," replied Timothy.

Lindsay placed roses on each grave and dusted the small amount of leaf litter from the headstones. She lovingly ran her fingers over the names on each grave marker. She spoke, as she always did, as though they were standing with her. She imagined their faces as she last saw them and told them about the minutiae of her life since her last visit. When the silence became unbearable, she said her goodbyes and walked over to Mrs. Jones' grave; her son, Adam, was buried to her left and her husband to her right. She placed a single pink rose on the kindly old woman's grave and dusted off her headstone. She did the same for Mr. Jones whom she'd never met. She felt a peculiar sense of satisfaction knowing that Adam was buried beneath her feet and that made her feel ashamed of herself.

Visiting the churchyard always left Lindsay feeling emotionally drained, but she forced herself to visit regularly. Normally she'd go home and play her violin as touching and hearing it was comforting to her, but the new violin, although exquisite, didn't bring back memories of her loved ones. Playing it made her think of Snape, and her feelings regarding him were confused. She hoisted her purse over her shoulder and started away when she remembered the rowan branch that lay across her parents' graves. She picked up the thick piece of branch and headed home.

A couple acquaintances of Lindsay's, friends of a friend, asked her to accompany them to a dance club that evening. Lindsay didn't need to be coaxed. She knew she was being asked so that she could provide a ride free of charge, but she didn't care. She'd be out of the house and with other people for a few hours. She looked longingly at her selection of mini skirts, but the weather demanded trousers. Perhaps she'd keep the chill away if she wore a long coat? It's not like she'd be walking very far.

A figure appeared with a tiny pop in a dark parking lot and stood next to a green Jaguar. He watched as three women walked to the entrance of a noisy dance club. The tallest of the three, undoubtedly Lindsay, began walking to the end of a long line, but the other two pulled her to the door. They spoke to the doorman who let them in almost immediately. Snape gave a quick look at his surroundings before following. He expected the imposing doorman to stop him, and he didn't disappoint. The doorman put his hand in Snape's shoulder to stop him from entering and looked down to shout at him, which is precisely what Snape wanted him to do. Snape's black eyes glittered ominously as they bored into the doorman's dull grey ones. The doorman began to blink and sway and Snape knew he had him.

"You will let me in," said Snape quietly.

"Let this guy in, Reg," said the doorman. Reg gave greasy-haired Snape a quick once over and refused.

"Is that a challenge?" said Snape softly and the doorman repeated the words, shouting them at Reg.

"What?" said Reg. "Are you on something, Mick?"

"Settle it, Mick," said Snape and Mick lunged at Reg. Snape slipped past, grinning, and two bouncers showed up to split up the fight. Mick was brought in complaining of dizziness and a splitting headache. Reg took his place at the door.

Snape spotted Lindsay immediately. She was standing at the bar with two other girls, and she'd already struck up a conversation with the bartender. Snape moved freely through the crowded club. Patrons looked him over and moved out of his way. He'd once thought it a curse, but now that he was older he saw the benefit of being mistaken for a pariah. He rarely had to wait in lines and was rarely held up by crowds.

A little distance away from the bar stood a small group of young men. The leader of which was a short heavyset fellow who kept glancing over at Lindsay. His mates encouraged him to speak to her. The heavyset fellow checked his breath before moving slowly toward the bar. He wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his and tapped Lindsay on the shoulder. She turned and smiled at him. Her companions looked the young man up and down and turned their backs on him. His confidence wavered and he began to stammer. Lindsay took the initiative and asked him if he wanted to dance. She didn't wait for a reply and took him by the hand and moved to the dance floor. The young man's confidence quickly returned and he chatted away with Lindsay while they danced.

After two dances and a conversation that didn't appear to be nearing an end, a second member of the small group approached and asked to cut in. Snape rolled his eyes as the lanky, acne-ridden, post adolescent attempted to move in time with the music. He kept stepping on Lindsay's feet and had difficulty moving his eyes away from her cleavage. Lindsay was gracious enough to pretend not to notice as she attempted to keep a mostly one-sided conversation with acne-boy. He did manage to keep his hands to himself.

Each member of the rag-tag little group took turns dancing with Lindsay, and she eventually moved away from the dance floor to converse with them. Just what that woman could find to talk about was a mystery to Snape, but her companions seemed to be entertained. Snape stopped a waitress and ordered a pint of bitter and settled in for what was promising to be a very long and very dull evening. Most of the patrons were very young and the general atmosphere of the club made his thoughts wander. He yawned and stared at his drink. The cuff of his burgundy shirt reminded him of Lily and his mind drifted into the past.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder, Snape is reminiscing.

"There you are, Sev," said Lily as she approached Severus' refuge. The sun shone on her long dark-red hair and made it shimmer. Severus smiled as he looked up into her emerald-green eyes. "I think you've been avoiding me." Lily sat on the grass next to him. Severus sat with is back against a small old tree in a little nook of shrubbery that the other students usually ignored. His satchel lay next to him, and he was scribbling feverishly on a bit of parchment.

"I haven't been avoiding you. I've just been busy."

Lily leaned over him to look at what he was writing. "You have to stop doing that, Sev. You'll be expelled if you get caught."

"I haven't got a choice. It's the only way I can afford school supplies."

"But doing other people's work for them, it isn't right, Sev."

"Easy for you to say, your mum and dad buy your things. There—done!" said Severus as he laid down his quill. He stretched his hand a few times and rubbed his sore fingers. He rolled up the parchment and put his things in the satchel.

"I wanted to talk to you about the Winter Formal," said Lily. "Do you still want to go with me?"

"Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, you haven't mentioned it since term started. I've had a few people ask me to go with them, but I've been holding out for you. I was afraid I might get stuck going alone."

"I just needed a few more galleons to buy formalwear. I should have enough after I deliver those essays," said Severus as he patted his satchel.

Lily beamed and made Severus smile too. He loved making her happy. "We can go to Gladrags on the next Hogsmeade trip! I'll help you pick something out, and then we have to get some parchment and ink, and you need a new quill and..."

"One thing at a time, Lily. I can't afford all that."

"I've got some money too—"

"No, your parents gave you that money to buy your own supplies, not mine."

"I've got my own money too. I did some odd jobs over the summer so there's plenty for both of us."

"I said n—"

"Don't argue with me, Sev." Lily's tone was sharp indicating that her Gryffindor temper was on the verge of eruption, so Severus let the matter rest. He didn't see any point in fighting over parchment.

Severus yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Would you mind hanging around while a take a nap?"

"Not at all."

"Wake me in an hour." Severus stretched out his legs and Lily caught sight of the state of his shoes.

"Why are you wearing those shoes? They're much too small, and they'll likely fall apart if I charm them again."

"Potter and Black burned my good ones," replied Severus.

"Those monsters!" spat Lily. She lifted his robes a little and saw scratches and bruises on his calves and ankles. "You need to see Madame Pomfrey. I can only imagine the state your feet are in."

"If I went to the hospital wing every time the Dynamic Duo hexed or cursed me, I'd never leave."

"But they've left marks this time."

"Please, Lily, I really need some sleep."

"Alright then," relented Lily. She thumbed through his Potions notes while Severus leaned his head back on the tree. He was asleep within minutes. The combination of exhaustion and the knowledge that very few students would dare challenge Lily, and that included some of the more antagonistic Slytherins, made sleep come quickly.

Lily looked through his Potions notes and marveled at the changes he'd made. Lily excelled in all of her classes and Potions was one of her best, but Severus outclassed her in every way. The only class that she could consistently best him in was Charms and the difference in their abilities wasn't very great. She often tried to get Professor Slughorn to notice Sev's abilities in class, but she was the apple of Slughorn's eye and Severus was just an afterthought. She encouraged Severus to be more aggressive and get the teachers to notice him more, but while Lily was lauded for her assertiveness, Severus was punished for it. There was just something about him that most people didn't take to. It's not that the teachers singled him out for punishment; they just didn't seem to appreciate him or his talents. Severus always seemed to be hidden in shadow, out of everyone's view, even when he was standing right in front of them.

She flipped through a few more pages, taking note of the numerous original spells that Severus had been working on. One spell in particular caught her eye. She read it a few times before concentrating on sounding it out in her mind. Sev's ankle jerked, and he was hoisted into the air upside-down.

*

"It's too nice a day to be bored stiff. Where's Snivellus when you need him?" groaned Sirius Black.

"Shh, Padfoot," said James Potter as he peered through the shrubbery. "I've found him."

Sirius crept up behind James and looked through the vegetation. He whispered to James, "What's he doing in the air?"

*

"Oh, Sev, I'm so sorry," said Lily as she leapt to her feet, dropping Severus' textbook. "I read the Levicorpus spell. I didn't expect it to work because I didn't say it out loud. Just a minute, I'll get you down." Lily pulled her wand out and leafed through the textbook until she found the counter curse. She pointed her wand and said, "Liberacorpus," and Severus fell to the ground in a heap.

"That's a hell of a way to wake me up, Lily," puffed Severus looking a little dazed.

"I'm so sorry, Sev."

"It's okay. I'm not hurt."

*

Sirius pulled his wand out and pointed it at Severus. "Shall we give it a go?"

James pulled his wand-hand down. "No, you might hit Evans."

"Ugh!" groaned Sirius as he turned around to look for a fresh victim. "Fine, um, let's see. Look, there's Maggie Owen. Let's try her."

"No," said James again.

"Why not?" Sirius was getting aggravated.

"She's wearing a skirt, you dolt."

"Oh, right, let's go inside then. There's bound to be someone we can get."

It was such a pleasant sunny day that most of the student body was outside enjoying the sunshine. James and Sirius wanted to practice their new spell before showing it off in front of a large crowd. They prowled about the interior of the castle looking for a lone victim to practice on. It didn't take them long to find one. An awkward and bookish third year named Dominic Fahey came stumbling their way. He was struggling with a stack of books that obscured his vision.

"Showtime," said James. He pointed his wand at the unsuspecting Dominic and shouted, "Levicorpus." Dominic was jerked in to the air. His pile of books scattered and tumbled, and his schoolbag slammed to the floor. James moved the boy up and down in the air like he was dunking a teabag. Sirius was beside himself with laughter. James held Fahey about two feet off of the floor and said the counter curse. Fahey plopped to the ground, but didn't get up. His arms were wrapped tightly around his ribs.

"Oh, come on, Fahey," said James. "You didn't fall that hard." When Fahey didn't respond, James walked over to him, kicking a couple of books out of the way. Fahey's lips were blue and he was gasping for air. James' face blanched.

Sirius, who'd been doubled over laughing, saw the change in James' expression and joined him. "What's wrong, Fahey?"

"Peeves...knocked me...down...stairs..."

"We're sorry," said James as he holstered his wand and reached to help the boy up. "We didn't know you were hurt. We'll take you to Madame Pomfrey; she'll fix you up."

"Sorry, mate," said Sirius. "I'll get your books and things."

Potter and Black's little stunt earned them a tongue lashing from Madame Pomfrey and a week's worth of detentions from Professor McGonagall. Their reward for having invented a new spell with its own counter curse was a pass to Hogsmeade, despite being on punishment, and fifty points each to Gryffindor. Lily was livid.

*

"Those are your spells, Sev!" growled Lily as they walked to Hogsmeade.

"It's not worth fighting over," said Severus, but inside he was seething with rage and plotting his revenge. "Nobody would believe I invented them anyway."

"Show them your notes; they're proof that the spells are yours." But Lily hadn't seen another of Severus' spells; one that she would disapprove of and would likely get him expelled from Hogwarts— sectumsempra. He couldn't risk that spell getting found out, so he hid his textbook in a cupboard in the Potions classroom. No one ever looked in there, and he didn't need the textbook anymore. He could brew each potion from memory.

"Nobody will believe me over Potter and Black—Hogwarts golden boys."

"I can't believe you're willing to just sit back and let those toe rags get all the glory!" ranted Lily. "You need to stand up for yourself, Sev!"

"You keep telling me that, Lily!" snarled Severus. "And what happens when I follow your advice? The last time I stood up for myself, I was made to scrub bedpans by hand!"

Lily's temper cooled. "I'm sorry, Sev. It's just that it always works for me."

"I know," replied Severus. "You're vivacious, and I'm impudent."

"Well, here we are," said Lily quietly as they approached Gladrags Wizardwear. Severus held the door for her. Lily's mood brightened immediately at the thought of clothes shopping for Severus. She was excited to see him wearing something nice for a change. "Mind if I look around?" Severus shook his head and went straight for the second-hand section. Lily disappeared into the back of the shop.

Severus found a set of black dress robes that weren't exactly stylish, but were in decent enough condition. He'd also spied a slightly more expensive set of dark-green dress robes that he thought would show his Slytherin pride. He didn't actually care what color the robes were as long as they were dark. He wasn't fond of bright colors and had no intention of competing with Professor Dumbledore for the liveliest ensemble. A tap on his shoulder turned him around.

"What do you think, Sev?" said Lily excitedly. She showed him a set of burgundy dress robes, and held them up to his face. "It's such a good color for you."

Severus looked at the price tag. The robes cost a bit more than he wanted to spend, but he could afford them. Lily was so excited about them that he couldn't possibly deny her. He could live with the Slytherins taunting him about the color. It's not like he'd be wearing Gryffindor red. "Are you sure they won't clash with your dress?"

"My gown is gold so the burgundy robes would look lovely with it."

"I like them."

"You do?" said Lily beaming, and Severus felt a rush of warmth in his cheeks. He bought the robes and the least expensive pair of dress boots he could find. He had the entire package sent to school. He wasn't stupid enough to carry packages with him and risk Potter and company ruining them. Their next stop was Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop for parchment and ink. There was a quill there from a pink flamingo that Lily wanted, but they had to divide their money so they both could get the supplies they needed, and Lily had to settle for a less expensive quill. She said it didn't matter, but Severus hated that he couldn't give her what she wanted. Lily should never have to settle for anything. They had just enough money left over for Lily to get an ice-cream float and a butterbeer for Severus.

The Three Broomsticks was jammed with patrons, most of them Hogwarts students. Lily grabbed a seat and Severus went to the bar to place an order rather than wait for Madame Rosmerta to get to them. On his return trip, with an ice cream float in one hand and a buttterbeer in the other, he heard the voice of James Potter ring out above the din of voices. He was hoisted into the air upside-down and both the butterbeer and the ice cream float were dumped onto his face. The butterbeer mug smashed into his nose and it bled profusely. By mere chance, Hagrid managed to loop an arm around Severus and prevent his robes from falling below his knees. The resulting laughter from the students was deafening.

Severus would later attend the Winter Formal with a swollen nose and two black eyes. He'd waited outside the Gryffindor common room because he wanted to escort Lily to the Great Hall. He took a great chance in doing so, but he'd managed to avoid all four of the Marauders. He was speechless when Lily emerged from behind the Fat Lady's portrait. She wore a full-length, form-fitting, satin evening gown, and she looked stunning. The gold fabric made her green eyes so prominent that they practically sparkled.

Lily was perfect, even a Veela couldn't compare to her; vain ill-tempered creatures obsessed with their own splendor. Lily was utterly oblivious to her own beauty, and therefore equally unaware that she was far too good for one Severus Snape, but he was willing to continue that small deception. All that mattered was Lily became his in the end.

Severus cleared his throat and tried to speak, but Lily beat him to it, telling him how handsome he looked and running her hand down his sleeve in admiration of his dress robes. He held out his arm, she took it, and they were unmolested for the entire evening.


	40. Chapter 40

Snape yawned and blinked as his vision of lovely Lily disappeared, and he realized that a young woman wearing a garish gold blouse was standing in front of him.

"You look a little lonely," said the woman with a pleasant smile.

"I'm not. Piss off," replied Snape.

The woman was incensed and threw her drink in his face before stomping away. Snape grinned and wiped his face on his sleeve. He nursed his drink. His satisfied grin disappeared quickly when he realized what Lindsay was doing, and more importantly, who she was doing it with. A very handsome black man stood in the middle of the dance floor and his hands were on Lindsay. He was easily the tallest man in the room. He was lean with broad shoulders and a muscular physique that was visible through his expensive-looking and well-tailored shirt. Virtually every female in the room was watching him. Lindsay's two companions were throwing her hate-filled glares; their friendly demeanors couldn't withstand feminine competition. Lindsay chatted merrily as she looked up at her dance partner. A perfect white smile beamed down on her as they moved in time with the music. On top of everything else, the bastard was also a good dancer. A burning jealousy erupted in Snape, and he was sorely tempted to curse this black Adonis.

As luck would have it, Snape didn't have to retrieve his wand as another young man, much shorter and stockier than Adonis, asked to cut in. Lindsay smiled as she spoke to her new dance partner. He pointed to her hair, which told Snape that he'd said something about them both being redheads. "Idiot," muttered Snape. He glanced back at Adonis who'd moved away, but kept a close eye on Lindsay. When he looked back, Lindsay's new dance partner had grown very bold and was slowly sliding his hands down her hips to her bare legs. She was wearing a short skirt and her legs looked a mile long. She promptly moved his hands back to her waist and said something to him. Her demeanor didn't change much, but Snape knew her well enough to recognize that she'd given her new dance partner a warning.

The young man responded with a lascivious smile and slid his hands over Lindsay's backside. Both Snape and Adonis rose from their seats and moved as quickly as they could through the throng of people. They were a few feet shy of Lindsay when her dance partner flew through the air and landed hard on the floor. Several bouncers convened on the scene and immediately grabbed hold of Snape. Others lifted the young man from the floor.

"He didn't do anything," shouted Lindsay.

Adonis backed her up by saying, "I saw everything. That guy on the floor was groping her and she tossed him across the dance floor. That guy with the black hair over there got up when I did to help her."

The bouncers let Snape go with curt apologies and escorted the groper out of the club. Snape saw two other men leave too, and knew he'd have a fight when he left. He was looking forward to a little skirmish. It had been ages since he'd fought with muggles.

"You sure you're alright?" said Adonis.

"I'm fine, Garrett." She extended her hand to take hold of Snape's arm and introduced him to Garrett. "This is my friend, Severus."

"Garrett," replied Adonis with a nod. Snape only took Adonis' proffered hand because Lindsay seemed to expect it from him.

Lindsay's two companions rushed over asking after her and used the opportunity to swarm Garrett, who took the unwanted attention like the gentleman he was. Lindsay moved Snape to the bar.

"Would you like a drink, Professor?"

"No."

"A dance?"

"No."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I was in the area."

"I find that very hard to believe," said Lindsay. She ordered a soft drink and said, "So are you stalking me to protect me or to claim me?"

"Are you oblivious to the danger you're in?"

"No, Professor, but I've decided to live my life. I refuse to roll up in a ball and become a recluse out of fear of something that might not happen."

"Have you considered the danger you're putting me in?" That got Lindsay's attention. Her attitude changed completely from defiant resolve to intense concern.

"What do you mean?"

"A wizard who cannot control his muggle property would not be looked upon favorably by certain people."

"I hadn't thought of that, Professor."

"Clearly."

"This whole 'personal property' thing is a little too much to accept."

"It's not so difficult if you wish to stay alive."

"I'm sorry, Professor, I never meant to put you in any danger."

"Then you'll do as I say and go home."

"I can't, I'm their ride home," said Lindsay as she pointed to her companions. Their conquest of Garrett hadn't worked out and they were dejectedly returning to the bar, shooting suspicious glances at Snape as they did so. Lindsay immediately introduced them to him. "Delilah and Shayna, this is my friend Severus."

"Severus?" snorted Delilah. "That's your name?"

"Of course, that's his name," said Lindsay sharply, and Snape was a little surprised by her acidic tone as she was normally very even tempered.

"Nice hair," said Shayna.

"Severus and I were just leaving," said Lindsay pleasantly. "So you'll need to find your own way home."

"You're leaving with him?" shouted Shayna. "He's a walking grease pit."

"And how are we supposed to get home?" followed Delilah.

"I don't know," said Lindsay, "but you should've considered your transportation before you decided to be a bitch to my friend." Lindsay looped her arm around Snape's "See you...or not." They retrieved Lindsay's coat and left.

"I can't believe she's going to shag that," said Shayna.

"Where does she find them?" replied Delilah.

*

"I'm sorry about them, Professor," said Lindsay as they stepped into the brisk night air.

"Quite alright," replied Snape as he surveyed their surroundings. "But you have poor taste in friends."

"They're not friends, more like acquaintances." Lindsay shivered in her coat. "You should have a jacket, Professor. It's quite chilly."

"I don't need one. I won't be out long." It was a quiet evening. The only sounds were a low thump coming from the dance club and the clacking of Lindsay's heels on the pavement. As they neared Lindsay's car she gripped Snape's arm a little tighter and whispered softly. "Careful, something doesn't feel right." She had good instincts and for some reason that made him smile. As if on cue, three men appeared out of the darkness. They'd been hiding amongst the parked cars. The thickly set redhead ignored Snape and spoke to Lindsay.

"You choose him when you could've had me?"

"Big boys know they need permission before they touch a lady's posterior. You haven't learned that yet," replied Lindsay in a tone so patronizing that the redhead's face flushed so deeply with color that it was visible even in the poorly lit parking lot. Redhead lurched forward in temper and raised his hand as if to backhand her as he did so. Lindsay caught the strike with her hands and roughly shoved his arm down. She kicked him just below the knee and, as he leaned forward from the pain and the force of the kick, she raised her knee into his face. He fell backwards with his hand over his broken and bleeding nose.

The redhead's henchmen followed his lead and rushed Snape, who was grinning maliciously. Snape sidestepped them, forcing them to trip over each other. The first one to try and stand was met with Snape's boot in his face. He rolled to the ground unconscious, partially covering his friend who still managed to scramble to his feet. Out of the corner of his eye, Snape saw Lindsay approaching to help him and he shoved her back so hard she landed on the ground on her backside. Snape's attacker took advantage of the momentary distraction and rushed at Snape a second time. Snape ducked beneath the larger man's swinging right arm and pummeled his exposed ribs. He finished with a left hook the man's liver, and he dropped to the ground in a heap and promptly vomited. Snape turned to help Lindsay to her feet, but she'd risen unassisted and was dusting off her bruised posterior.

"Get in your car," said Snape.

"I'm fine, Professor. Thanks for asking," replied Lindsay.

"No time for niceties," said Snape as he passed his wand wordlessly over Lindsay's car, then peered inside before opening the driver-side door for her. "Go straight home. Firecall me if you have any problems."

Lindsay did as she was bidden. Snape waited until her car had pulled out of the lot and its taillights had all but disappeared down the road before he disapparated. The three young men sprawled on the ground woke and eyed him before attempting to stand.

"Go on," said Snape. "Get out of here." They moved as quickly as they could away from him and he disappeared with a tiny pop. He reappeared in Lindsay's garden. He skirted the house's perimeter before entering and checking the house for intruders. He left a charmed piece of parchment floating in the air just inside the front door; there's no way Lindsay could miss it. He paced the entrance hall until he saw her car's headlights. He waited quietly for the lone sound of Lindsay's heels clacking on the front walk before disapparating. He'd have to make some very subtle inquiries amongst the Death Eaters. There'd be hell to pay if the Dark Lord found out that he'd been attacked by muggles and he'd let them live.

Lindsay's key rattled and clicked in the front door's lock. She entered and closed the door behind her. She immediately spied the parchment in the air and reached for it, but stopped herself. A sudden pang of fear shot through her as she realized that it could be cursed or perhaps be a portkey. She eyed it warily and the familiar spiky scrawl of Professor Snape put her at ease. She plucked it from the air and read it.

I've inspected the house and grounds and found everything to be satisfactory. Please inform me of any future outings so that I may escort you safely.

~S.S.

"Brief and to the point, just like Snape," muttered Lindsay. She set the note on the hall table, and it disintegrated as soon as it touched the tabletop. She went to her study to pen a note to him. She needed to finish up her Christmas shopping and asked him if he was free on Saturday morning. She sent the note by owl immediately. Come Saturday morning, she still hadn't received any reply from Snape. Lindsay decided to finish her late breakfast and go it alone. She wouldn't deliberately put Snape in danger, but she also wasn't going to ask permission from him to leave her home. She had a life to live and no one was going to rule it for her. She heard a knock at her backdoor just as she was setting her breakfast dishes in the sink. Snape didn't wait for a reply; he just opened the door, entered the kitchen, and gave Lindsay a curt nod by way of greeting.

"I didn't think you were coming, Professor."

"I told you I'd escort you."

"Yes, you did, but what I meant was...oh, never mind. You're here now. My coat and things are in the hall. I'll just fetch them and we can be off." Snape followed her and held her coat for her. She took his extended arm and they disapparated to Diagon Alley. Lindsay needed frames for her paintings. She'd considered making them herself as she could do a little woodworking, but it'd been a long time since she'd done it and she didn't have much time to mess around. She stopped to pick up some perfume and toiletries for friends. Snape waited outside.

An elderly witch stood behind the counter this time and Lindsay asked her if the French witch was in. She was told that the young witch went back to Bordeaux on an urgent family matter. The two women began conversing. Eventually Lindsay got around to asking the older witch if she had anything that could tame Hermione's wild hair. Snape had moved off by this time and was perusing some outdoor wares when Lucius Malfoy appeared looking very concerned. Lindsay stayed in the shop until Malfoy left.

"Good morning, Severus."

"Ah, Lucius," replied Snape with a pleasantness most people would think he wasn't capable of. "Shopping with Narcissa?"

Lucius brightened at the mention of his wife's name. "The holidays are nearing and Draco still expects to be surprised. I don't know how Cissa does it, but she's always able to make Christmas special for him. I ran out of clever ideas years ago." Lucius looked carefully about before continuing. He made sure no one was too near before he stepped closer to Snape. The brightness left Lucius' face as he spoke. "You brought it with you, Severus? In public?"

"If by 'it' you mean my muggle, yes I have." Snape attempted to deflect Lucius' curiosity as he continued. "She's currently searching for a nice fragrance for a young witch whose acquaintance I've made. Women are better at such things, I find."

Lucius heaved a sigh. "I always choose Cissa's gifts personally. Women appreciate attentiveness, Severus. This young lady you're pursuing won't appreciate you associating with...one of them. Well-bred women will often turn a blind eye to the occasion dalliance, but one must be discreet about one's affairs."

"She's just a muggle. I'd hardly call it an affair."

"Your young lady will not view things the way you do," countered Lucius. "Perhaps if you were less rigid in your masculine ways, you'd find someone to settle down with you."

"Perhaps," said Severus. "But I'm having too much fun to settle down with just one witch."

"Gentlemen don't have to settle, Severus. We just have to be discreet," said Lucius with a grin. Severus laughed at Lucius' joke, but he fully understood the warning behind it. Lucius' eyes traveled over to the perfume shop. "You really shouldn't keep it too long."

"I'm not ready to part with her. She amuses me." Lucius grimaced. "And she works; it's nice to have a second income."

"It's an awfully great price to pay for a bit more pocket money."

"We're not all blessed with your income, Lucius."

"True enough." Lucius looked about again and whispered, "Be careful, Severus. The Dark Lord can be fickle."

"I understand." Snape saw Narcissa step out of a nearby shop looking for her husband. He raised his voice a little so that Narcissa was sure to hear him. "And do extend my holiday wishes to Cissa, will you?"

Lucius understood Snape's change in manner and followed his cue seamlessly. "Yes, of course, I will. She'll be delighted that I bumped into you. You are coming to our Christmas Party, aren't you?"

"I haven't missed a single one, have I?" replied Snape. Narcissa walked to her husband's side and took his arm. He beamed a handsome smile down on her. She extended her hand for Snape to kiss. She smiled at Snape, but the loathing in her eyes was difficult to hide. She disliked and distrusted Snape. He was beneath her, but he was useful so she was always as gracious as she could be with him. Snape kissed the back of her hand and released it. "Happy Christmas, Cissa."

"And to you, Severus," replied Narcissa. "I hate to cut your conversation short, but I must have my husband back."


	41. Chapter 41

Lindsay watched as the Malfoys walked away. Snape remained in place, but his eyes followed a very beautiful witch as she sauntered past him. His expression didn't change as his gaze followed the woman. She disappeared into a shop and Snape returned to perusing some odd holiday trinkets. Lindsay stepped out of the shop and was about to join her chaperone when she saw a witch who'd watched Snape's interest in the beautiful woman who'd passed him. Lindsay put her hand over her mouth to hide her laughter.

It was obvious what sort of woman this witch was, and Lindsay wasn't going to interrupt her advances until she knew what Snape's reaction to her would be. His private life was his own to manage. The plain-looking, but not unattractive, young witch was seeking to ply her wares, or even better—land a man with a steady job. She approached Snape and stood very close to him. She looked up at him, smiling, and spoke quietly so only he could hear. Snape shook his head, but didn't engage in conversation with her. She attempted a second time to get his attention, but he moved away from her. She followed him and put her hand on his arm. He turned and leaned down to her, and Lindsay watched as the expression on the young woman's face moved quickly from confidently happy to a boiling rage. She slapped his face and stormed off. Snape smiled. Lindsay took this as her cue to rejoin her surly companion.

"Took you long enough," said Snape.

"I had to find the perfect gift, and I had a nice chat with the lady—"

"You were standing outside the shop for at least five minutes."

"You saw me? Your peripheral vision is excellent."

"It has to be, given my line of work." Snape extended his arm for her to take, and they began walking slowly in no particular direction. "Is there anything else you need to buy?"

"I have everything I need, but I thought we could stop for some—"

"Apples!" declared Snape suddenly in a tone of voice that would've sounded quite natural coming from a small child. A vendor with a small cart had apples, pears, and strawberries for sale, and Snape darted toward it to buy half a dozen ruby-red apples. Lindsay thought they looked too good to be real and remarked on the fact when Snape returned to her, apples in hand.

"They've been magically ripened. It can only be done in small batches and takes great skill; otherwise the trees can be damaged." He took an apple out of the bag and offered it too Lindsay.

"No, thank you. I thought maybe we could stop at Florean Fortescue's."

"As you wish." Snape rubbed the apple on his sleeve before biting into it. They chose an outdoor table and Fortescue was out to take their order before Lindsay had even sat down.

"Afternoon, Lindsay," said Fortescue. "What's your pleasure?"

"Hello, Florean, good to see you again. I'd like whatever Albus ordered for us the last time. It was divine."

"And you my good fellow?" said Fortescue to Snape.

"Nothing for me." Fortescue disappeared with speed into his shop and Lindsay settled down next to Snape. They were both facing the street and watching passersby. "Albus brought you here?"

"Yes, we have an understanding. I buy tickets to a music event and Albus escorts me to it. Then he takes me out for ice cream the next day. We have such fun picking out clothes."

"Courting the Headmaster is a waste of your time," said Snape with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Very funny, Professor; I'm aware of Albus' preference, which doesn't matter in the least to me. We have fun together because we enjoy many of the same things. We both love people, and gossip, and shopping, and food, and trying new things."

Fortescue emerged from his ice cream shop with a large wide bowl containing a great variety of ice cream and toppings. He set it proudly on the table in front of Lindsay. "Eww," said Snape as he grimaced and turned away from the bowl. Fortescue took offence and opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Lindsay whispering to him.

"He's not feeling well, Florean," said Lindsay as she patted Fortescue's arm. "Ate too many apples."

"Oh, I see," replied a well placated Fortescue. "This is on the house, Lin."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly," replied Lindsay.

"Any friend of Albus is a friend of mine. Enjoy."

Snape waited for Fortescue to disappear back into his shop before he spoke. "Can you actually eat all of that?"

"With a little effort, yes. Would you like to try it?"

"No."

They sat in silence, each eating their preferred treat. The only sounds were Lindsay's spoon occasionally tapping against the bowl, the crunching of Snape's apples, and the chatter and footfalls of passing holiday shoppers. Lindsay normally enjoyed people watching; she liked it almost as much as conversing with people, but today she was mostly Snape watching. His eyes scanned the street and shops, focusing on nothing in particular. His expression was impassive. Another very attractive young woman hustled past and Snape's eyes locked onto her. There was certainly nothing unusual about a man looking at an attractive woman, but Snape appeared to be studying her more than appreciating her beauty. He had precisely the same expression when brewing a potion. He did the same thing each time a particularly attractive woman passed by, yet his bearing never changed and his face showed no emotion whatsoever. Snape was undoubtedly the most peculiar man Lindsay had ever encountered.

Snape finished his apples and rose to buy two more bags of both apples and strawberries before taking Lindsay home. He dropped one bag of apples and one bag of strawberries on her kitchen table. "You'll enjoy these," was all he said before apparating back to Hogwarts. She didn't even have the chance to thank him.

"I'm usually pretty good at reading people," said Lindsay to the air, "but you, Professor, are inscrutable."

Lindsay retired to her garage where she kept a dusty smattering of small woodworking tools that she hadn't touched since she was an art student. There were a fairly large number of mechanic's tools in there too, but they weren't hers. She allowed a friend to store his tools there. In exchange, he kept her car running well and kept her brother's old motorcycle in good condition. Lindsay wasn't really a motorcycle enthusiast, but her brother loved that noisy old thing and she had fond memories of clinging to his back while he drove her around town. She gently ran her hand over the gas tank; candy-apple red, his favorite color. Tears began to well-up in her eyes as his handsome smiling face flashed across her mind. She shifted her attention, and took up the rowan branch that she'd taken from the graveyard and began to study it. She wanted to make something from it, but wasn't sure how to begin. Brother Timothy told her that rowan wood could provide protection from enchantment. She'd learned from her Hogwarts studies that the wizarding world believed the same thing so her choice was obvious.

Two failed attempts to produce something workable reminded her of a lesson that she periodically retaught herself: The skill in one's hands doesn't always match the knowledge in one's mind. Her third attempt produced exactly the vision she had in her mind's eye, a round trinket a bit smaller than an average-sized belt buckle. She hollowed it out just enough to hold a tiny braid of hair. She didn't know why she'd kept the wad of hair that she'd pulled from Snape's head; it was a strange thing to do, but she felt compelled. She busied herself with intertwining her hair with his and placed the finished braid inside the tiny wooden chamber she'd created. Behind it, she'd carved the rune for protection and inlaid it in silver. She wouldn't dare put the rune on the outside fearing that Snape might reject it. There was also the possibility of it putting him in danger with the Death Eaters. Lindsay wasn't sure how a group like that would react to a protective amulet, so she was deliberately cautious. The idea was to protect him, not get him killed.

She hand carved filigree on the outside, careful not to overdo it as Snape was the minimalist sort, and inlaid it with gold. She knew from her jewelry-making class that gold was a soft metal and fiddly to work with so she took her time. It was an exacting process. In the center of the filigree, she carved a stylized rune for knowledge and inlaid it with silver. She surmised that a bookish academic like Snape might be more inclined to accept a gift that made reference to learning rather than protection or good luck. The sealing of the amulet was the most difficult part for her as she used magic instead of a muggle adhesive to lock the joints in place.

It took Lindsay several days to complete her art project. After she'd finished it, she was grateful to herself for not attempting to make her own portrait frames. Her woodworking skills had never been stellar, but they'd declined to such a degree that she was sure she would've failed to produce anything usable let alone appealing to the eye.


	42. Chapter 42

Snape stood in the gloomy entrance hall at Malfoy Manor. He waited for a timid and cowering house elf to escort him to his destination despite knowing where he needed to go. He had to steel himself for tonight's duties. Social events weren't Snape's forte. He could hear the excited and nervous chattering of guests coming from the Grand Ballroom as he neared it. Malfoy Manor was such a large structure that it housed more than one ballroom, each designed for a different function. Navigating the Manor was almost as daunting as traveling the halls of Hogwarts. Since the Dark Lord was expected to make an appearance, only the most splendid of Lucius' ballrooms would do. Snape wore an expensive, yet plain-looking, set of midnight-blue dress robes for the occasion and was fussing with his collar when Lucius spotted him.

"So good of you to come, Severus," said Lucius as he clapped Snape's shoulder. Lucius was always affable with Snape, but tonight his sociability was turned to its highest setting. He had many important guests to impress. Lucius was an insufferable snob with a cruel temper and an insatiable sense of entitlement, yet he was the most charming person Snape had ever met. Lucius' natural charisma rivalled, if not outstripped, the Dark Lord's charm. The Dark Lord's captivating ways were a learned and well-practiced façade that was often broken by unpredictable fits of madness and brutality. Lucius was naturally alluring.

This great gift was bestowed upon Lucius by the well-researched and planned pairing of Abraxas Malfoy and his wife Lalita Haught. Lalita, though not a stunning beauty in the conventional sense, was nevertheless an attractive woman who was able to charm favors from both men and women alike. She was ruthless and conniving and a paragon of perception and good manners. She loathed Snape.

Abraxas Malfoy was a man not to be trifled with. He was commanding, intelligent, and charismatic enough to be as well liked as he was feared. Abraxas rarely raised his voice in temper and could control an entire room full of people with just a look. He took a liking to young Snape. He sensed ambition in the unkempt boy, and ambition was an attribute that Abraxas greatly admired. Abraxas took Severus under his wing and treated him as a combination of servant and apprentice.

It was under Abraxas' tutelage that Severus learned how to be feared. He also learned that low birth was a near permanent impediment to climbing the social ladder. Abraxas taught Severus how to be confident in his abilities to the point of arrogance, and how to impress his superiority on those of equal or lower social status while maintaining his proper place among his betters. The rules of society were complex, and Severus learned how to keep them in delicate balance. Despite Severus' great intelligence and high magical ability, he would forever be a lowborn half-breed with aspirations beyond his means. The Dark Lord promised to purge Severus' impure qualities and make him a superior wizard of as noble a birth as any, excepting the Dark Lord himself, and young Severus was naïve and desperate enough to believe it possible.

"You came alone, Severus?" remarked Lucius as he handed a glass of champagne to Snape.

"Yes," nodded Severus as he sipped at his glass. He hated champagne no matter how expensive it was.

"Pity, I was hoping to meet your newest young lady."

"I feared her presence might be an impairment to the evening's festivities. There may be another attractive witch or three whose acquaintance I'd like to make."

"You're incorrigible," laughed Lucius.

They began to stroll amongst the party goers with Lucius occasionally stopping to give the appropriate amount of attention, based on social status, to each of his guests. Severus was fully aware of his role and played it well. Lucius showered his guests with the most winning parts of his personality while Severus was used for his sharp-witted expertise and encyclopedic knowledge of a variety of topics. Severus provided facts and figures, recited historical accounts, and displayed a vast knowledge of obscure magic. Guests listened intently and when Severus was finished speaking, they returned their attention appropriately to Lucius, who was the suitable recipient of their awe and appreciation. Severus was much too lowborn to warrant fawning no matter how impressive his intelligence truly was.

Lucius and Severus were a team. Lucius provided the connections, the high manners and good breeding, and Severus did the grunt work; he did the research, delivered the knowledge, and displayed the needed talent. There was a time when Severus was proud to be Lucius' sidekick. Lucius Malfoy was everything Severus had thought he wanted to be: well connected, well bred, and well respected. Then he grew up and realized that he was his own man, and he was only being used. Severus was ambitious, yes, but he wanted to be respected for his talents. He wasn't willing to be a circus act just to get attention from the 'right' sort of people.

A sudden silence indicated that Lord Voldemort had arrived. An old and malicious-looking house elf announced the Dark Lord's arrival. The throng of guests parted way as their god treaded lightly between them. Heads bowed as even the most powerful persons present submitted to their superior. The fear in the room was palpable. The Dark Lord appeared to be in good humor, but that could change in an instant. He was the center of attention, a position he demanded, and the relentless toadying from so many people of wealth and power was a heady elixir for him; he became drunk on it. And it was only a matter of time before that drunkenness became apparent.

As host and hostess, Lord and Lady Malfoy greeted their terrifyingly powerful guest, who was aware enough of propriety to respond accordingly. The Dark Lord was introduced to the Malfoy's guests individually as their stations warranted. Each one shivered and shook before him and cast their eyes downward. Lord Voldemort was magnanimous for a time, but he soon tired of idle banter. He commanded everyone to return to their activities prior to his arrival, and to be free with themselves as if he weren't present. Everyone knew that was a loaded command. They parted into small well-spaced groups and nervously chatted, all the time eyeing their Lord warily. Lord Voldemort strolled silently between the partygoers looking benevolent, almost angelic, but his bearing belied his predatory nature and intent.

Severus stood alone on the fringe of the partygoers, partially hidden in shadow. The Dark Lord spotted him and closed in. Severus bowed deeply to his Lord like the underling he was. "How gracious of you to join us, my Lord."

"It is my pleasure to celebrate the holidays with my people." Severus allowed himself to be maneuvered into a corner. He stood placidly like a grazing deer that is entirely unaware of the hunter hidden in the bushes. "There is a small matter that I wish to discuss with you, Severus. I hope you won't mind delving into the past for a moment."

"Not at all, my Lord," replied Snape with the deliberate appearance of gratefulness for receiving Lord Voldemort's individual attention.

Voldemort's shoulders drooped like he was preparing to share an immense burden. Snape adjusted his manner accordingly and made an appearance of great concern. "I'm afraid I owe you an apology—"

"You have never wronged me, my Lord," said Snape with conviction.

"I'm afraid that's untrue, Severus," said Lord Voldemort as his eyes locked onto Severus', his apologetic bearing already forgotten. Severus knew what was coming and opened his mind for the Dark Lord's perusal. "I offered to spare Lily Potter's life as you requested of me, but she wouldn't comply. I honored my promise to you, Severus, but Potter forced my hand."

Snape forced feelings of anger and insult at Lily's defiance of the Dark Lord's request. He recalled feelings of rage and betrayal that he borrowed from memories of watching Lily with James Potter and attached them to images of Lily. "Lily Potter was an arrogant fool!" spat Snape, incensed. "She should've been grateful for your generous offer. Fault lies entirely with her, my Lord. It is she who would owe you an apology for her own conceit."

"Such hostility, Severus, and I thought you were fond of the girl." Snape projected his basest feelings regarding Lily onto mental images of her and projected them to the forefront of his mind. Images of Lily dissolved into the many catalogued images of beautiful women, witch and muggle alike, that Severus had been storing in his mind since Lord Voldemort's downfall. The Dark Lord couldn't comprehend love even in its simplest forms, but lust was something he could fully understand. Satisfied for the time being, he retreated from Severus' mind.

"But she was beautiful, wasn't she, Severus?"

"She was, my Lord, but many women are."

"You do have an eye for the ladies." Voldemort turned away to cast his ever suspicious eyes over the Malfoys' Christmas guests. "I'm afraid the pickings are slim this evening, at least for a man of your discerning tastes."

"They are indeed, my Lord...unfortunately."

"But, then again, there are more important things than beauty."

"My Lord?"

"We are a dying race, Severus. Our numbers must be increased."

Snape feigned submissive embarrassment and stammered slightly. "I-I'm not...I'm a half-blood, my Lord. I couldn't marry a high-born witch."

"Your magical skills override the impurity of your blood. You are a worthy sire, and your offspring would be well favored provided you choose a suitable witch to produce for you. A marital union is not important, nor is it necessary. In fact, a tryst with an already married but unproductive witch might suit a wizard with your appetites." Snape looked nervously out to the crowd of guests. "Don't be shy, Severus. Put your best foot forward, and you'll find a willing partner." Voldemort gave Snape's shoulder a slight push to move him toward the crowd. Now Severus was forced to do something that utterly terrified him—mingle.

Severus wouldn't tell Lucius about the Dark Lord's suggestion, and hoped that Voldemort kept their conversation a secret. He rarely disclosed private conversations with his Death Eaters because he liked to encourage mistrust amongst his followers, but he was unpredictable and that worried Snape. Lucius would be all too willing to help Severus procure partners to bolster his own favor with the Dark Lord. The thought of being used as a stud was repugnant to him. He'd rather be tortured. His thoughts meandered suddenly and uncontrollably to the 'event' with Miss Gray; he couldn't bear to call it what it really was so he shielded himself by using a euphemism. He was disgusted by his own weakness, by needing to coddle himself. He quickly regained control of his thoughts. He'd be a dead man if the Dark Lord caught him off guard.

Snape was obliged to make the acquaintance of every lady in the room and he had to do it without Lucius, which was a direct handicap. He deliberately made himself as awkward and uninteresting as possible. It was important that Voldemort saw him making an effort to obey his master, but it was equally important that he didn't have to go through with his master's plan. It was a long and tortuous evening for Severus, and he longed to roll up in his bed at Hogwarts and never rise from it. Severus left for Hogwarts moments after the Dark Lord excused himself. He apparated to the school's gates and trudged his way along the grounds to the school's entrance, and then through the halls to his private chambers.

Severus collapsed into his armchair. Words couldn't express how grateful he was that he didn't have a class to teach in the morning. He was exhausted. Every muscle in his body ached, and his head hurt so badly that even the sound of his own breathing was painful. He'd have a long lie in the morning, provided the Headmaster didn't need him. Dumbledore knew the toll that his Death Eater duties took on him, and usually let him rest unless he was urgently needed. It would take a little time, but he could relax now. He was safe within the walls of Hogwarts; safe at Dumbledore's side.


	43. Chapter 43

The kitchen at 12 Grimmauld Place hadn't seen so much activity in decades. Sirius sat at the head of the long kitchen table with Remus to his right and Harry to his left. An assortment of Weasleys were seated and snacking, taking a short break from housecleaning.

"Anything been going on at school?" said Sirius. "Don't hold back, I haven't heard any decent gossip in ages. Has Snivellus done anything to you? I'd love an excuse to curse his head off."

"Well, there's a rumor that Snape's taken an interest in...um... " Harry's cheeks flushed red, more from nausea than from embarrassment.

"In what, a Hippogriff? No, that's too handsome an animal. His ugly face would frighten it. A Thestral then?"

"A...real...live...giirrrl," purred George.

"That's absolutely a rumor," said Sirius confidently, barely able to hold back laughter. "There's a reason why Snivellus is all buttoned up to here and down to there." He mimed buttoning a high collar and low-buttoned sleeves. "If he undid not more than three buttons the girl would either die of fright or vomit all over him. Has she got dark glasses and a white stick by any chance?"

Remus had been sitting quietly with a wry grin on his face. He leaned his elbows on the table and was looking at the newspaper that was spread out in front of him. A cup of tea sat steaming next to him. "The girl is Lindsay," he said as he casually turned a page.

"The bastard cursed her, Remus!" shouted Sirius as he slapped the table with the flat of his hand. Fred and George roared with laughter. "I'll kill him!"

"Oh, I don't know, I think she might like him," answered Remus, his eyes twinkling with devilment.

"What's in that tea, Remus? Give it here."

An exasperated Molly entered and ordered her children to finish eating and help her or there'd be no dinner. Harry set down his tea cup and looked at Sirius apologetically.

"Go on then," said Sirius and Harry rose and left with all the young Weasleys trailing behind. Within seconds of their departure from the kitchen, a few dull-sounding pops were heard followed by laughter and Molly's annoyed voice. "Fred and George Weasley!"

Sirius silently observed Remus placidly reading the paper. He waited until he was sure no one was lingering too near the kitchen because he didn't want to be overheard. "What's the matter with you, Remus? You're just going to sit placidly by and let Snivellus slither in on your girl?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I think my meaning was plain."

"Lindsay and I are just friends. It's none of my business if she wants to spend time with Severus."

"That's why you're still single. You always step out of the way for everyone else."

"You know perfectly well why I've chosen to stay single," growled Remus, his temper finally rising. "I'm too dangerous--"

"Stop being such a martyr!" countered Sirius. "Lindsay's not a child. She knows the risks."

"We're only friends, Sirius!"

"Only because you're content to let things stay as they are."

"For the last time, I'm not interested in Lindsay!"

"So you do like Tonks!" shouted Sirius as his fist bashed against the table triumphantly.

"Quiet!" said Remus. "And stop looking so pleased with yourself."

"So am I going to be an uncle, or what?" Remus rubbed his eyes and took a sip of his tea. "Well?" prodded Sirius.

"I'm ignoring you."

"You know that's futile," said Sirius with a snort.

"I like Tonks, but--"

"Oh, here it comes," said Sirius.

"But," continued Remus, "I could never forgive myself if I infected her."

"You haven't infected anyone yet and you're....how old are you?"

"The same age as you."

"I can't be that old."

"Sorry to ruin your fantasy."

"You'll take precautions like you always do. Tonks is an Auror. She'll be fine."

"She's too young for me."

"She's not a schoolgirl, Remus."

"How can I support her, Sirius? No one will hire a werewolf."

"You don't need to. Tonks has a job."

"So you think I should just sit at home and wash dishes and darn socks then?" said Remus, his temper flaring again.

"Don't act like you'd be doing nothing," said Sirius. "Keeping up a house is hard work."

"And what would you know about keeping a house?"

"I've been watching Molly and the kids clean up this place. They're a mess by the end of the day. They look pretty tired too so it must be laborious."

Remus shook his head. "No, I won't make her or anyone else feel responsible for me. It's not right. This is my problem."

"I know not having a formal job hurts your pride, but it's not like you're lacking ambition. It's not your fault that you're surrounded by narrow-minded bigots. I swear, if there was anything I could do to kill that thing inside you, I would."

"Don't you think I know that?" answered Remus.

"Some things need to be said now and again," said Sirius. "There's nothing wrong with being a house-husband. You should give it some thought."

"House-husband?" repeated Remus.

"Yes, that's what the Muggles call men who keep house and look after kids and plants and such," answered Sirius.

"What do you know about Muggles?"

"I was talking to Hermione. It came up in conversation. I think it would be a good situation for you, Remus. After you're done doing up the breakfast dishes, you'd have time to work on those academic papers you've always wanted to write."

"I have to admit, that is appealing," said Remus.

"You'd make fools of those idiots who write in to those egg-head journals you're always reading."

"I think you over estimate my abilities, Sirius."

"I think you underestimate yourself, Remus," countered Sirius.

"Oh, this is a silly conversation! Tonks and I haven't gone beyond a handshake."

"A handshake is a start. It's not good to be alone, Remus. Give Tonks a chance."

There were a few moments of silence as Remus studied his half-full teacup. Sirius could tell that he wasn't ready to concede. It would take more prodding, but not today. Remus was a thinker, not an impulsive decision-maker like Sirius. He had to mull things over before eventually arriving at a well-thought-out conclusion. Remus was the first to speak, and he changed the topic just as Sirius had expected. "What did you think of when you first met Lindsay? Did anything odd cross your mind?"

"I thought of Lily."

"Me too," said Remus.

"It must be the hair," said Sirius. "She doesn't really look like Lily."

"No, it was something else, at least for me. There's something about her, a quality she has. I'm not sure. I can't put my finger on it. But I feel both happy and sad when I see her."

Sirius' voice softened. "She makes me think of Lily, which makes me think of James, and that hurts my heart. I miss my brother." He leaned his chair back on two legs, put his hand on his chest, and closed his eyes. "Lily was nice to Snivelly too. Maybe that's what you're seeing in her, Remus—a kind heart."

"Lily and Severus were friends."

Sirius' eyes snapped open as his chair slammed down onto all four legs. "That slimeball's never had a friend! He wouldn't know what to do with one. Lily was just soft-hearted."

"She was soft-hearted, but she was also honest. Lily said she was Severus' friend and she meant it. She wouldn't have lied to him or anyone else about it."

There was another pause in their conversation. The silence between them was broken only by the sound of Sirius' fingers drumming on the table. He stopped suddenly, and his eyes grew wide. "You don't think Lindsay's shagging Snivellus, do you?"

Remus choked on his tea. "How should I know?"

"Ugh, I just made myself sick," said Sirius as he leaned forward and placed his hand on his stomach. "I can't believe I could think of something so horrid."

"I really wish you hadn't said it. I don't need an image like that floating around my mind," said an exasperated Remus. "You haven't told Harry that Severus and Lily were friends, have you?"

"Of course not! He doesn't need to know that slimy bastard was anywhere near his mum. But I did tell Lin to stay away from him. She obviously disregarded my advice."

"Why are you so concerned about Lin?" said Remus.

"Snape is a dangerous man."

"Severus is unpleasant, not dangerous."

"He's still an active Death Eater, Remus."

"He's helping us and at great personal risk. Just give him a chance."

"You gave him a chance, and he outed you as a werewolf."

"Some wounds run too deeply, I suppose."

"Make excuses like you always do, Remus."

"Albus trusts him!" snapped Remus.

"Albus trusts everyone. If Voldemort came to him with a box of chocolates and an apology, Albus would trust him too." Remus' jaw tightened, and his posture stiffened a little. "Don't look at me like that. I didn't languish in Azkaban for twelve years just to turn a traitor. Albus is a genius, and we'd be lost without him. I'm still loyal to Albus and the cause, but I'm not so blinded by that loyalty that I can't see his flaws."

"Albus is the reason you're sitting here and not back in Azkaban at the mercy of the Dementors."

"You think I don't know that?"

"I think you should be more grateful for the risks that Albus has taken for you, for all of us."

"I am grateful, but I'm not blind. Albus isn't a god; he's a man who can and does make mistakes. He's said it himself."

"Albus wants to see the good in people. There's nothing wrong that."

"Mark my words, Remus, Snape will turn on us to save his own skin. He's a Slytherin; it's what they do."


	44. Chapter 44

Severus rose late on Christmas morning. A small pile of gifts sat on the small table next to his armchair, most of them were from his colleagues. He picked up a small rectangular package wrapped elegantly in silver paper with a green ribbon that was charmed to look like a coiled snake; it was from Lucius and Narcissa. Lucius had a gift for Potions-making. His skill didn't approach Severus', but he had some skill nonetheless. Lucius' specialties were poisons, anti-dotes, and anti-venoms. Snape flicked his wand and the snake unfolded itself with an audible hiss and settled on the table as a harmless green ribbon. He tore off the expensive silver paper and threw the wadded bundle on the floor. An old, very rare, and very expensive book of obscure anti-venoms for poisonous creatures lay in his hand.

Most people would think such a book to be a thoughtful and practical gift for an academic like Snape, but Severus knew better. This book was a warning. Lucius was terrified of Nagini; he'd confided in Severus that he thought Nagini to be a species of man-eating snake that had been long thought extinct. It was commonly called the 'wizard's serpent', not because of its popularity as a magical pet, but because of its preference for hunting magical people. This was a particularly large species known for its high intelligence, resistance to magical spells, and its ability to sense magic at great distances.

In the past, many dark witches and wizards attempted to keep wizard's serpents as familiars, but were usually eaten by their virtually uncontrollable pets. Their numbers had spread across Europe all the way to Southern England via animal trafficking. During the mid-sixteen hundreds, when the Great Plague of London was claiming muggles victims, there was a great rise in deaths from these snakes and a plan was formed to eradicate them. A slow-breeding creature, their numbers never recovered and they were thought to have become extinct.

Severus had already begun researching possible anti-venoms for Nagini's poisonous bite. He'd frightened Wormtail into providing him with a sample of Nagini's venom. The standard anti-venom used by St. Mungo's would be ineffectual with this particular snake's venom, assuming that Lucius' suspicions were correct, and Lucius was rarely wrong. The great Potions master, Zygmunt Budge, postulated that each individual wizard's serpent had slightly different venom, making a viable broad-spectrum anti-venom almost impossible to brew. Severus had just finished brewing a prototype potion for Nagini's venom when Dumbledore rushed in asking if he could help Arthur Weasley. Severus' anti-venom needed refinement, but was sufficiently potent to save Arthur's life; adding further credence to Lucius' theory.

He set the book down and turned to set the wad of silver paper alight when he noticed a large object propped against his portrait wall. He inspected it, and judging by its shape, it appeared to be a portrait wrapped in plain green paper and tied with a silver bow. He lifted a small card from it and read the familiar neat script inside.

Merry Christmas Professor Snape,

I hope you like it.

P.S. Hermione charmed it for me.

~ Lindsay

Thankfully the card was small and Miss Gray was unable to engage in her usual verbosity. Severus ran his hands gently over the paper, tracing the corners of the package. It had been wrapped by hand. He took out his wand and flicked it at the wrappings, which neatly came undone without damage. His jaw dropped in awe of what he saw. Nothing would've prepared him for a magnificent gift like this. He saw himself brewing what appeared to be a very complicated potion as evidenced by the vast number of ingredients laid out before him. The subject's face was angled slightly to the side. The hair on the fully visible side of his face was tucked behind his ear. The figure in the portrait stopped with a look of deep concentration on his face. He ran the tip of his index figure along his lips; then dropped his hand suddenly and looked as if someone not included in the scene had caught his eye. The figure's expression changed instantly as he turned his head toward the unseen person. The figure's eyes flashed with a look of mischievous glee and a devilish smile crept into his features. The portrait was clearly Snape and the likeness was very good. There were minute "improvements" in his features that subtly changed his overall appearance. The result was far from handsome, at least in the conventional sense, but it was clear that the artist viewed her subject very differently from most other people.

Severus stepped back, his eyes still locked onto his paint-and-canvas twin. He felt heat rise to his cheeks. What was he to do with this portrait? He couldn't possibly mount it next to his collection of macabre paintings. He conjured a small table and set the portrait on it. He flicked his wand again and the wrappings neatly and perfectly returned to covering the portrait. Snape moved back to admire this wonderful gift. He traced his fingers over the neatly tied bow. He liked the simple wrappings and could unwrap and rewrap them as his mood dictated. He hadn't planned on interrupting Miss Gray's holiday festivities, but he decided there and then to pay her visit later in the evening.

#

Lindsay stood in a cooking apron with her hair pulled back away from her face and was placing plates piled with bread on the rows of tables. She greeted everyone by name—Mrs. This and Mr. That. Other volunteers were setting down plates piled high with a hearty Christmas dinner in front of the crowd of unfortunates who were packed together at the cheerfully, yet sparsely, decorated tables.

"It's not Christmas without carols," said one patron.

"Go on, Lindsay, sing for us," said another.

"Only if Mr. Stevens sings with me," replied Lindsay. A rough-looking man who appeared much older than his years smiled and set his knife and fork down. Lindsay moved to stand next to him. They talked for a moment, deciding on what to sing. Patrons and volunteers alike became quiet and listened as Lindsay's mezzo-soprano blended beautifully with Stevens' high baritone. They sang two carols, and Stevens refused to sing a third until after he'd eaten.

A small-framed thin man dressed in rags entered the room; skulking the edges of it before taking a seat in the darkest corner. Lindsay spotted him immediately and thought there was something familiar about him. The odor wafting from him was so offensive that the people closest to him slid down the benches to the farthest end of the table. The man grinned to himself, which went unseen as his face was obscured by a hood drawn low over his face, only the thick stubble of a day's old black beard could be seen. He was amused that he could manage to smell worse than a room packed full of impoverished vagrants. Most of the people who worked here noticed him immediately and one came over to greet him. She was very young, late teens perhaps, a pretty girl with dark-blonde hair. She tried to pretend that she didn't notice the odor from him.

"Happy Christmas, sir," said the young girl nervously.

"'appy Christmas," he replied in a low rough-sounding voice with a thick, Yorkshire, country accent.

"Can I get you something to eat?"

"Nay, I just came in fer the warmth. I'll be on my way shortly."

"A cup of tea then?"

"Aye."

The girl moved away very quickly, not out of fear, but to get some distance between herself and the smell. She returned seconds later with a hot cup of tea, which she placed in front of him. She didn't try to engage him conversation as one of the patrons, a worn-looking elderly woman, called her away.

The odiferous gentleman chose a convenient vantage point where he had a clear view of the entire room. His attention rested heavily on Lindsay, who had just slapped a man's hand away from her backside. Another man pounded his fist on the table and shouted, "That's enough o' that, Phil! Keep that up and I'll plant me boot in yer arse!"

"Thank you, Mr. Johnson," said Lindsay. "You're always such a gentleman." She bustled about talking and laughing, stopping only to sing a requested song. She stopped in front of the Yorkshire man with a tea pot in her hand. "Hi, sweetie, would you like a refill?" He pushed his teacup toward her, but said nothing. She noted the long spider-like fingers extending from his fingerless black gloves. She filled the cup and pushed it back to him, noting that he didn't take sugar. "Can I get you anything else?"

"Nay."

"Well, it was good to see you again, Mr. Stern." She winked at him and moved on to the others at the end of the table. The Yorkshire man rose and left, leaving the unsweetened tea untouched. Almost three hours later, a new shift of volunteers arrived and Lindsay exited the building with the young girl that had spoken to him and two older women. A man exited behind them and walked the three women to their cars. Lindsay waved to the man saying, "Thanks, I'll be fine, Rick." She unlocked and opened her car door and was greeted with a putrid odor. "Hi again, Professor, I was wondering where you went."

Snape sat up, hood still over his face, as she started the car's engine. "How did you know it was me?"

"You can change your accent and hide your face, but you can't change your body language. Also, your hands have a very distinctive shape." Frowning, Snape pulled off his gloves to inspect his hands. "I heard you talking to Sally. How did you learn a Yorkshire accent?"

"That's a trade secret."

Lindsay beeped the horn and waved at Rick as she drove past his still-parked car. "It's a fabulous accent. I met a couple people from Yorkshire when I was a student. I loved talking with them. I didn't understand half of what they said, but still..."

"Would you like to explain to me what you were doing?"

"Hmm? Oh, never been in a car before? This is the steering wheel; it makes the tires turn—"

"I'm talking about the soup kitchen!" barked Snape. "We've discussed this before, Miss Gray. You're not to leave your home without me. It's for your safety as well as mine."

"I do this every Christmas. It's a family tradition, and I won't give it up."

"Associating with smelly libidinous vagrants is a tradition?"

"My dad always said that giving money is the easiest form of charity. To feel real compassion for people, you have to look them in eyes and get close enough to smell their smells. Poverty has a distinctive and unforgettable odor. Every time I go home from a place like that, I'm reminded of just how fortunate I am. And while I'm on the topic of smells; what did you do, roll around in some cow patties?"

"It's the essence of carrion flower," replied Snape with a grin. "I smeared it on my hair and these clothes I found in the garbage."

"You picked clothes out of the trash?" blurted Lindsay. "They could be soiled with infectious body fluids, or crawling with vermin."

"I do feel a bit itchy, now that you mention it."

"Nasty, Professor, just nasty."

"You mean nasteh," teased Snape as he returned to the Yorkshire accent.

Lindsay laughed, "Say something else."

"No."

"Please, I'm not above begging, Professor. Besides, I need something to take my mind off that smell."

"A short one," said Snape, and began to recite a short poem called 'The Bat.' "Black-black-bearaway, coom doon by hereaway."

"Are you sure that's English?"

"Quite certain, yes."

"Will you do another?"

"Sneel, sneel, put oot your horn. Your fayther an' muthel'll gie ye some corn."

"Oh, I love that accent. Do another."

"No."

"Please, just one more."

" 'The Natterin' Wife' ," said Snape. "The parson, the squire an' the divil

Are troubles at trouble this life,

Bud each on em's dacent an' civil

Compared wi' a natterin'(nagging) wife.

A wife at mun argie an' natter,

She maks a man's mortal life hell.

An' that's t' gospel-truth o' t' matter,

I knaws, 'cause I's got yan misel."

"Natterin?" said Lindsay. "I guess that means I'm annoying you?"

"Well spotted."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yorkshire Dialect Poems can be found here: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2888?msg


	45. Chapter 45

"Here we are," said Lindsay as she travelled along her driveway. She hastily parked her car and ran to the passenger-side door. She grasped his hand and practically dragged him into the house. Once inside, she headed immediately for the stairs. He began to pull away. "Don't be shy, Professor." He let her drag him to the second floor. Part of him wanted to flee, but the sordid side of him wanted to stay. He didn't like how aggressive she was being; it made him uncomfortable. He was trying to think of a polite way to refuse her, when she stopped, flung open a door, and flicked on the light inside. It was a washroom. "There's a bathrobe in the closet. Put your clothes in that wicker hamper and I'll get them when you're done." She closed the door behind her, and he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

Snape emerged moments later; his hair wet, face clean-shaven, and wearing his usual black robes. Lindsay was waiting for him. Her hair was also wet, and she wore thermal lounge clothes and a pink hoodie. The clothes she'd been wearing were lying on the floor some distance away from her.

"Were your robes underneath the skank-wear?"

"They were sealed in a bag in my pocket. They're uncontaminated." Snape pulled out his wand and pointed it at her head. "May I?"

"Certainly," replied Lindsay. Her hair dried immediately. "Thank you." He pointed his wand at himself and dried his own hair. "You're much cuter without a beard, Professor. I've never been a fan of facial hair, although it does compliment some men." She retrieved the hamper, placed her own clothes in it and proceeded down the stairs, hamper in hand. Snape stopped her and took the hamper from her, floating it in the air in front of them. They went out to the back garden, where Lindsay asked for the hamper to be set down and retrieved a box of matches from her pocket. She lit a match and dropped it into the hamper where it sat atop her clothes and the puny flame wavered for a second before going out.

"Step back," commanded Snape." He pointed his wand at the hamper and said, "Incendio." He turned to Lindsay looking very much annoyed. "You know that spell. I know you do."

"But I have matches," replied Lindsay. The levity didn't work. They stood in silence for several moments watching the hamper burn down to ashes. "You really must stop stalking me, Professor. People might talk."

"I'm not stalking you," snapped Snape and some color flushed his cheeks. "I wanted to give you your Christmas present."

"Oh, how nice," said Lindsay with some surprise. "I wasn't expecting a gift. Where is it?"

Snape put out the fire and cleared away the ashes before holding his arm out for her to take. They apparated to a dark and lonely patch of woods. An eerie silence, broken only by the hoot of a distant owl, lay heavily on the trees.

"Where are we?"

"You'll see."

He took her hand and walked among the tall trees, looking up for a gap in the canopy. "This will do. Come closer and put your arm around my shoulders." Lindsay did as she was told, not knowing what to expect. Snape wrapped his arm around her and held her tightly. She jumped a little when she realized they were rising into the air. "Relax, I've got you." They rose up, higher and higher, until the canopy was barely visible. Dark misty clouds rolled and twisted around them. Tiny pin-points of lights marked a set of far-off villages.

"What are we doing?"

"Shh, you'll see." Lindsay stiffened and gripped Snape more tightly as she spotted an enormous black shadow in the distance coming straight at them. "Thestrals," whispered Snape. "They're migrating."

Huge hairless dark wings moved gracefully and powerfully through the chill night air, keeping the enormous bodies of dozens of thestrals aloft. The beasts were generally silent except for the occasional soft snort. The herd flew in a tight formation that broke only to pass around Lindsay and Snape and reformed again once they passed the levitating human obstacles.

Lindsay reached out a hand and Snape grabbed it back. He whispered to her, "This is a wild herd. Be still." She relaxed and leaned into him as she silently watched the thestrals pass by. Snape hadn't the slightest interest in thestrals. His face was turned to hers. Her hair smelled lovely. She was wearing the perfume he'd made for her. His attention was so focused on the delightful feeling of her lean curvy body pressing against his, that he hadn't noticed that the thestrals had passed and were almost out of sight.

"That was the most unique and thoughtful Christmas present I've ever received. Thank you, Professor." She was so excited that she kissed his cheeks several times. He apparated her home without any warning. They appeared at her back door with a tiny pop. He'd planned on excusing himself immediately, but she dragged him inside, still chattering excitedly about how lovely the thestrals were and how impressed she was that he could fly without a broom.

"It's an uncommon ability," said Snape. "Very few know that I can do it, and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Your secret is safe with me. Can I make you something to eat?"

"Uhh, I really should be going..." he didn't actually need to be anywhere, but was afraid he'd end up doing something he'd regret.

"Indulge me, Professor. I'm a quarter Italian; I love to feed people. It won't take me long to whip something up."

"If you insist," replied Snape.

"I'll get you something to drink. Would you like a mug of ale?"

"I can get it," replied Snape as he turned to descend the cellar steps. She busied herself with pulling out ingredients and cooking utensils. It was all very meticulous, much Snape himself when preparing to brew a potion.

He watched her remove her hoodie and don a cooking apron. She chatted amiably about the first time Hagrid had shown her thestrals and how exotically lovely she thought they were. Her chatter meandered to other related topics. She could be annoyingly loquacious, but she was also very good at small talk and quite interesting at times. She was capable of deep discussions on a great variety of topics, but Snape wasn't interested in chatting. He wasn't interested in making friends.

He had no idea what she'd put in front of him, and didn't dare ask as he had no desire to get her talking again. Right now she was quietly eating and he was enjoying the silence. She typically was quiet during meals unless someone spoke to her, which Hagrid and Lupin often did. If it wasn't one of them that got her going, it was Dumbledore or that nitwit Trelawney. He ate quickly and hadn't realized how hungry he'd been. She might talk too much, but he had to admit that she was an excellent cook. They retired to the library after their pleasantly quiet meal. He was still nursing the same mug of ale.

The library was a pleasant room, very warm with a roaring fire. It housed an impressive collection of books—mostly literature, but Snape saw quite a few texts on muggle medicine and psychology. He set down his ale and pulled a book from the shelf and thumbed through it; 'The Psychology of the Criminal Mind, Volume Two.'

"Bit of light reading?"

"Human behavior fascinates me," replied Lindsay.

"Why criminal behavior specifically?"

"I have always been a factual sort of person. My family was deeply religious and they could understand the idea of good and evil, but those terms were too simplistic for me. I needed facts and calculations, so I buried myself in books like the one you're holding. Personality and upbringing undoubtedly influence behavior, and these are important topics of study for people who catch criminals. But I wasn't interested in catching people; I just wanted to understand them. After all of my experiences and all of my studying, do you know the conclusion I came to? Some people are just evil, and that's all there is."

He slid the hefty tome back into its place. He noticed an old walking stick in the corner leaning against a book case. He picked it up half expecting it to be enchanted. "Yours?"

"No, that belonged to Mr. Roberts. He owned the house and grounds. Most of the books were his too. He was a Professor of literature. Of all the things he left me, it's that stick that makes me feel connected to him." Snape raised an eyebrow and set the stick down. "I can't help it, Professor, I'm sentimental." She moved to turn on the radio and smiled at what she heard. "I love this song. Do you know Van Morrison?"

"Not personally," replied Snape and Lindsay laughed at what she thought was a joke. The truth was he knew what was coming and it made him nervous enough to blurt a ridiculous answer.

She stood in front of him, still smiling, and took hold of his hands. "May I have this dance?" he obliged, but did so very stiffly. She even let him lead despite being a far superior dancer. She softly hummed along with the tune. She placed both hands on his shoulders, which he hadn't expected. He lightly placed his hands on her lower back. Their bodies weren't touching, but they were so close. Her face was only inches from his. He stopped moving with the music.

"Something wrong?" said Lindsay. She was looking in his eyes, but they were focused on her lips. He abruptly stepped back and lifted her hands off his shoulders. He muttered something about needing to leave that was almost incoherent. He disapparated, leaving her dumbfounded.

He apparated straight to his house at Spinner's End instead of going home to Hogwarts and appeared in his tiny entryway. It was the first time in many years that he'd apparated directly into the hovel. He thrust his head backwards, deliberately smashing it into the door behind him. "Severus, you're a fool! A rose doesn't bloom for a gargoyle such as yourself. She's just being sociable."

A small mirror hung on the wall to his left. When he was very small, his mother used it to fix her hair before going out. She'd stopped using it before he went to Hogwarts. It hung unnoticed, covered in grime with a thin, dirty, silver chain hanging down the middle of it. When she was alive, the chain was charmed to look like a crack in the mirror so Tobias wouldn't steal it and pawn the silver. Severus saw the mirror out of the corner of his eye and smashed it with his elbow, ignoring the small piece of it that was embedded in the skin of his forearm.

He trudged to his sitting room, muttering to himself. "I must focus. I have work to do. I must think of Lily." He was torn between what he wanted to do and what he had to do. He sat down and picked up the book sitting on the table next to him. He opened it and set his arm down on the chair's arm. He winced as the mirror shard sank deeper into his skin. He slammed the book closed in temper and threw it onto the table. He rolled up his sleeve to look at his elbow. The shard was embedded in the skin of his forearm just above the elbow. Most of the shard was pulled free by the fabric of his sleeve as he rolled it up. Only the tiny tip of it was still in his skin. He could easily have used magic to free it, but that wouldn't be painful enough. He took out an old pocket knife that he'd had since childhood. He'd had it so long; he couldn't remember its origin. He flicked the blade open, stuck it in his skin, and began to dig.

After he mangled his arm and bled all over the ratty fabric of the chair's arm, he wiped the blade clean on his robes and put it back in his pocket. He watched the blood ooze from his arm. It was already beginning to coagulate. His wounds always healed quickly. Some would call that lucky. To Severus, it was yet another irritation. He pulled a tiny vial of dittany out of his pocket and dropped a little on his self-inflicted wound.

As he lowered his arm to draw down his sleeve, his eyes were drawn to an old thin scar on his forearm blow the Dark Mark. The scar trailed upwards toward the top of the Dark Mark and became fainter as it went. It was the vestige of a failed attempt to cut the Mark out of himself. It was a ridiculous idea, but he'd been quite drunk. In fact, it was the only time he'd ever been drunk. He was so ashamed of himself afterwards. He'd awoken on the kitchen floor, heavily hungover, with a kitchen knife sticking out of his forearm and a sticky mass of his own blood pooled around him. He'd managed to skin a good bit of his arm before he passed out. Any normal wizard, or Muggle for that matter, would've bled to death, but not Severus. He had to have a body that refused to give in even after his mind had already done so.

He reminded himself so strongly of his mother as he dragged his sick, bloody, and staggering body through the house that he vowed never to be drunk again. Thereafter, he very rarely drank and only a small amount when he did. His little act of defiance needed to be kept hidden from the Dark Lord. Severus was a natural Occlumens, something the Dark Lord didn't appreciate among his servants and one of the few things Severus was grateful to have inherited from his mother; but his skill wasn't nearly good enough to keep the Dark Lord entirely out of his mind. As soon as he sobered up, he asked Dumbledore to help him hone his skills.


	46. Chapter 46

Severus launched himself out of the dirty old armchair and began to pace between the tiny sitting room and the connected, and equally tiny, kitchen. He rubbed the sleeve where his wand lay; it gave him comfort. His eyes repeatedly darted to a dingy corner of the kitchen where a small table was shoved against the wall. He remembered a time when it sat away from the wall, leaving enough room for four people to squeeze themselves around it. Severus stopped his pacing as his eyes fogged and his mind wandered into the past.

In the summer before his last year in Hogwarts, young Severus sat on the dirty floor of the sitting room, reading. His father had just woken up from a night of hard drinking, for Tobias Snape there was no other kind of drinking. He heard his father's heavy staggering footsteps stomping about the upstairs. A door slammed, he was likely vomiting in the toilet by now. It was late afternoon and Severus had just returned from stealing tins of food from the local shops. It was easier to steal things when the late-day shoppers were crowding the stores; they tended to be noisy and in a rush to get home. His mother was still asleep. It took much longer for her much smaller body to cope with too much alcohol consumption. She'd likely be awake in another few hours. If there was more to drink, they'd get along tonight. That was the only time they got on well, when they were both stone drunk. Sometimes, like last night, they would even be affectionate with each other. Those were nights that Severus slept outside somewhere, anywhere that he could find that was dry. If there wasn't any gin, there would be a row that would end with Tobias beating her and maybe Severus too.

Severus' research books lay on the floor around him. He kept them hidden amongst his mother's many books where his father was less likely to damage them. He'd long ago surpassed the need for school books. Hogwarts' curriculum wasn't advanced enough for him so he supplemented his education with more advanced texts, many of which he'd borrowed from his mother's collection; others were borrowed from the Malfoy's expansive library. Tobias would've pawned them by now if he'd known how valuable they were, among wizard-kind that is. Tobias was anything but academically inclined; as he saw it, the only use for books was as kindling for the fire.

He heard his father stomping down the stairs and quickly put away his books and notes. He stashed his mother's hand-me-down wand up his sleeve. The wand originally belonged to his mother's father. It passed into his mother's possession after her father died. Severus had never known either his grandfather or his grandmother. They were both purebloods that were loath to admit the existence of a half-breed embarrassment named Severus let alone admit that he was their grandson. Severus knew that his grandmother had died while he was still an infant as she'd been a frail woman all of her life. His grandfather died in a duel with seven Aurors a few years before Severus started Hogwarts. His mother was inconsolable; it was as if the world had ended. She never recovered.

He wasn't stupid enough to remain sitting on the floor as his father entered it and risk having a boot planted in his side. He stood with a week-old newspaper in his hand and pretended to read it. Severus felt his sleeve. Feeling the holstered wand gave him comfort, the only real comfort he'd ever known, and yet it was also a source of terrible frustration. He hated that wand. It was stubborn and inflexible, and didn't suit him at all. It resisted him. He was certain that if he'd had a proper wand, his early altercations with Potter and Black would've ended very differently.

"Smell!" shouted Tobias from the bottom of the staircase. "Where are you, boy?" 'The Smell' was his father's idea of a clever nickname. He'd begun using it a few years ago during a card game with his two closest friends, the brothers Jack and Jim McCarthy. Severus had made the grave mistake those few years ago of being seated at the kitchen table when his father came in with his thuggish friends. They rounded on him before he was able to exit the room. He ended up being stuck between the two hulking brothers and the kitchen wall. They stunk of scrumpy.

"Come sit on my knee, darlin'," said Jack as he pinched Severus' backside.

"It's a boy, Jack," said Tobias. "I know it's hard to tell with the long hair."

"You sure," said Jack.

"Yep," replied Tobias. "Saw it when he was born, didn't I?"

"Yours?" asked Jim as if he didn't know who Severus was. "Not sure I'd admit to fatherin' somethin' that ugly."

"Takes after his mum," replied Tobias and won himself a round of laughter from his friends.

"Come on then," said Jack, "tell us your name." Severus said nothing. His name was a perpetual source of amusement for the two cretins. Tobias answered for him.

"His mum calls him Severus." Tobias spoke slowly, putting great emphasis on his son's unusual name, much to the delight of his two friends. "But I just call 'im 'the Smell'." Jack and Jim roared with laughter. A malicious grin spread across Tobias' face; he was clearly pleased with his own cleverness.

"I'm still not convinced it's a boy," said Jack, "especially with a name like Severus. Sounds a bit girly to me." He grabbed Severus and threw him at Jim, who wrapped his heavy arms around the boy so he couldn't move. Severus began to kick and Jim wrapped his legs around Severus' declaring, "Oi, you're a feisty one."

Jack yanked Severus' trousers and underpants down. "You're right, Toby; it is a boy, though not much of one from what I can see. That pretty little girlfriend of yours will have a right good laugh when she sees that." Jack sat down and Jim threw Severus face-down onto the floor, his naked backside sticking into the air. "That's right, darlin'," said Jim. "Put your best face forward." The three men laughed so hard, they had tears running down their faces. Severus cried as he struggled to pull his trousers up.

"You cryin' again?" said Tobias with a murderous look on his face. "You should've been a girl. Let him go lads. With a nose that size, he'll have snot on everything."

Severus ran out of the kitchen, clutching at his sagging trousers, and sprinted upstairs to his bedroom where he shut himself up in the closet. When he'd recovered enough to emerge, he stood in front of a long crooked mirror that hung on the wall. He spit on it a few times and rubbed his dirty sleeve on it to remove some of the grime. He opened his pants and looked at himself, wondering if there was any truth to what Jack had said. He'd never seen a naked man, except for the dirty pictures his father showed him, and he certainly didn't compare to any of them. He had no one to ask; Mulciber would likely curse him if he tried. Severus closed his pants and wondered if Lily would mind. She'd never laughed at him for anything else, so maybe she wouldn't care. And even if she did, he'd be a powerful wizard someday, and she'd want him despite his flaws. He'd long ago accepted that he was ugly; there was no reason to believe that, that part of him wasn't ugly too.

Jack and Jim often threatened to do perverse things to him, but they never did. They just liked to make him cry; and that had been the only time they stripped him. But Severus wasn't stupid enough to think that no one else would try anything. That's why he never fully disrobed, especially at school. He washed at the sink fully clothed with his eyes downcast so he didn't have to look at any of the other boys. Some of them were so confident and brazen that they walked to and from the showers with their towels over their shoulders instead of covering themselves. Severus would reach under his clothes with a wet soapy washcloth and got out of there as quickly as he could. The worst times were when he had to wash his hair; he did that at the sink too. He dunked head under the water, raked a cake of soap over his hair, and rinsed quickly before anyone had a chance to hex him or shove his head down.

Severus' roommates insisted that he keep his bed curtains drawn to keep the smell inside. He eventually realized that there was an advantage to being unclean. People didn't like to come too near to him, and they certainly didn't want to touch him. Except for Lily, she never minded touching him, or holding his hand. She didn't mind sitting closely to him either; sometimes she leaned over his shoulder to study Potions.

He vowed in front of that old mirror, never to let anyone fully see him. He was accustomed to being ugly, but he wasn't about to give anyone a new reason to ridicule him. Little did he know that Potter and Black would break that vow for him; and in front of a crowd of girls. Jack had been right, they did laugh at his inferior endowment. He learned that day that there were far worse things than humiliation. He'd unintentionally insulted Lily in a fit of rage and she ended their friendship.

Avery and Mulciber watched the entire altercation with Potter and Black and later berated Severus for being weak. He knew more dark magic than the four Marauders put together, and still consistently lost to Potter and Black. Avery and Mulciber were right, and Severus knew it.


	47. Chapter 47

Severus wrote to Lucius, telling him what the dirty muggles had done to him. Lucius had informed the Dark Lord, who promised to avenge Severus' honor when the time was right. Secrecy was important, so Severus had to wait until he'd graduated from Hogwarts. Severus was nothing if not patient, and he was sure the Dark Lord would make it worth the wait. Thoughts of the Dark Lord had encouraged an arrogant expression on young Severus' face, which Tobias noticed immediately.

"Smell! Oh, there you are. What're you up to?" Tobias' eyes narrowed as he eyed his defiant son, who was standing in the corner of the sitting room with a newspaper folded in his hand.

"Reading," replied Severus.

"Studyin' your mum's weirdo books, more like. Why don't you learn something useful?" Tobias moved to his chair and rummaged through a pile of pornographic magazines and photographs. He lifted a photo of a woman with her legs spread apart and stuck it in Severus' face. "Here, study that. It's as close to a real one as you'll ever get." Severus turned his head away and balled the newspaper in his fist. Tobias got a rise of his son and was pleased with himself. He grabbed Severus' arm and pulled him into the middle of the room. "Make me something to eat," ordered Tobias as he pushed his son toward the kitchen.

"I can't. There's no food."

"Do it!' shouted Tobias.

"No!" Severus shouted back. Tobias backhanded him and Severus could taste the blood trickling into his mouth where his tooth had cut his lip. In a moment of over-confident rage, he slapped his father and immediately regretted making such a terrible mistake. Severus was already a capable wizard, but he was no physical match for an experienced street fighter like Tobias. His father's balled fists rained down on him so quickly that there was little Severus could do but curl up in a ball on the floor. He tried kicking his father in the groin, but Tobias caught his leg and flung it out of the way like it was paper. Tobias was by no means a large man, but he was more heavily muscled than his slightly built and slightly taller son.

Severus managed to roll with the force of his father pushing his leg away and scrambled to his feet, still determined to best his hungover father. He retaliated by throwing a balled fist at Tobias' face. Tobias ducked it and pivoted as he crouched down and grabbed Severus' pant leg. Tobias stood up quickly, bringing his son's leg with him, while at the same time slamming the back of his shoulder into the boy, effectively knocking Severus off his feet.

The subsequent beating was painful, but short-lived as Tobias was so hungover that he needed to stop and vomit in the kitchen sink. Severus ran out the door and stalked through the neighborhood streets. A small group of girls were playing in the street. They began to laugh and point at him. They mocked his swollen bloody face and shabby clothes. He wore a large, tattered, black sweater that had been his father's; a worn overly large pair of dirty jeans that were full of holes, which also had belonged to Tobias; and dirty black boots he'd found in the garbage that were only slightly too large so that walking in them wasn't too difficult. He didn't own any socks, except for the ones he wore while at school. The boots rubbed his bare feet raw. He wore one of his father's old, brown, leather belts, which was so large that Severus had to put extra holes in it, which made the dried old belt stick out too far from Severus' narrow waist.

Severus shot the giggling girls a murderous look and they quieted instantly. A satisfied smirk spread across his face. He eventually stopped in a dark dank alley and sat on a crate to rest his sore feet and bruised ribs. The Dark Lord would be hearing of this latest assault by way of a letter to Lucius. Severus would have his revenge.

Severus knew this alley, and the nearby residents, well. He always watched for new faces in the neighborhood, which was easy to do in a nearly abandoned mill town. It's important to know one's surroundings. Directly next to this alley lived a young couple, recently married, and the wife was having a difficult time learning to cook. Severus frequently found piles of burnt food in the garbage bin. He rose and lifted the lid on the bin and found what would've been a hearty breakfast had it not been so blackened and crisp. He heard rustling farther down the alley and instinctively grabbed the hilt of his wand. A strange ticking sound slowly meandered up the alley. Severus relaxed when he saw what it was, a mangy emaciated little dog that was as unloved and forgotten as Severus himself. He took pity on it and threw it burnt eggs and burnt toast. He gathered up the sausages for himself and sat on the crate.

The little dog ate the food Severus had given it and sidled up to the crate. Severus handed it a single sausage, but refused to part with any more of them. The dog weakly took the morsel and lay down on the hard wet ground. It began to rain and they were pelted by an icy downpour. Severus didn't care; he sat shivering on the crate watching his breath steam in the air as he ate burnt sausages. He turned to the little dog. It lay very still beside him. He waved a half-eaten piece of sausage in front of its face, but it still didn't stir. Severus, feeling oddly brave, patted the strange dog's head and realized that it had died right there on the cold ground next to him; its last meal of burnt breakfast food filling its shrunken belly. Severus broke down and sobbed. How alike they were, he thought, both dirty, underfed, and unwanted.

Severus knew that he could go to the Evans'. They would feed him and give him fresh clothes. Even Lily would take pity on him and help him, although they were no longer friends. Lily was just that sort of person. She'd help anyone in need, even someone she despised. But he was too shame-faced to go begging at their door. He ate the rest of the sausages, placed the open end of the crate over the poor little dog's body, and left it to decay in its fusty dark crypt.

The death of that mangy dog stirred a fiery determination in Severus. If he didn't do something with himself soon, he'd end up like that dog, or worse—he could end up like his parents. He went home and waited in the alley across the street until Tobias left. He found his mother standing in the kitchen with a black eye, apparently there was no gin left in the house. She stood in her tattered dirty house-dress staring blankly at the kitchen wall and crying. Her dirty, lank, black hair, which was now heavily streaked with white, was stuck to her wet cheeks. She looked worn and gaunt and Severus knew that he'd look the same someday unless he changed the path of his life. Severus had seen her like this many times. He felt sorry for her when he was little and would often cry with her, although he'd been too young to understand why she was crying. Now that he was older; no longer a child, but not yet a man; he felt nothing but contempt for her and her weakness.

Severus went into the room where his mother kept her cauldrons and Potions supplies. He lifted the tins of food he'd hidden there, cradling them in the front of his lifted sweater, and went back to the kitchen. He handed Eileen a tin of beef stew. "Eat this." Eileen didn't move her eyes from the wall. She didn't even blink. Severus tapped her shoulder with the tin. "Eat this, mum." Her head turned toward him, her eyes were glassy and she didn't seem to see him. She must've made herself a potion to combat the hangover and the hunger. In a fit of impatient temper, Severus turned and dumped the tins on the kitchen counter. He took out two spoons, a fork, and a manual can opener. He opened the tin of stew, sat his mother down at the table, put the spoon in her hand, and told her to eat. The smell of the stew in the open can and the feel of the spoon in her hand brought her back to her senses. She began to eat, having no idea where the food came from, and Severus gathered up the remaining tins; one of beef stew and two of peaches, and went up to his bedroom to eat in peace.

It seemed to take an eternity to get through his last year at Hogwarts. The persistent attacks from Potter and Black intensified Severus' bitterness tenfold, but it was watching his Lily going around with Potter that wounded him the most deeply. He could only hope that she'd soon see the error of her ways and return to him. Whatever the Dark Lord had planned for him would surely give him the dignity to face her again and Lily would finally see him for what he truly was, a powerful wizard whose arm she would be proud to take.

Then the great day finally came; the day after Severus left Hogwarts. Lucius had come to the hovel and took Severus to meet the Dark Lord. There were a number of people gathered. Lucius' mere presence parted the way between them and Severus walked directly behind him. Lucius had bowed and called Voldemort, 'my Lord', so Severus did the same, which seemed to please Voldemort. Lucius gently pushed Severus to his knees, while Lucius himself remained standing, and the Dark Lord questioned Severus about his treatment at the hands of muggles.

"Lucius has informed me of your circumstances. I am deeply troubled by what I've been told. I understand that your father is a muggle?"

"Yes, my Lord," replied Snape as the bitter taste of bile rose unexpectedly into his mouth.

"Pity," said Voldemort and Severus felt all hope leave him. "Magical blood is precious and powerful, so powerful that it can be cleansed of impurities..." Severus' heart began to pound and his eyes shone with optimism. "...under the right circumstances."

"My Lord, if I may?" said Lucius.

"Of course, Lucius."

"Severus is a gifted wizard, despite his unfortunate parentage. His grsndfather was the great pureblood wizard, Cassian Prince, a close friend and confidant of my father. Cassian's blood runs strongly in Severus' veins. I have no doubt that he'd be a great asset to you."

"We'll see," replied Voldemort. "Cassian Prince was a great wizard indeed, and difficult to tame." The Dark Lord smiled and polite tittering resounded through the gathering. "You must have learned a great deal from your grandfather."

"No, sir...um...I mean, my Lord, I never met him. He didn't approve of my blood status."

"A misguided reaction, I'm sure," said Voldemort casually. "So this muggle father of yours; he and his two friends have mistreated you?"

"Yes, my Lord, many times." The Dark Lord's expression feigned compassion, but his eyes remained cold.

"Your mother, she is a pureblooded witch?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"And yet she permits these muggles to have authority over her and you?"

"Yes, my Lord."

Lord Voldemort rose from his throne; his bearing elegant, and his movements graceful. He looked out amongst his crowd of followers and began to speak. "This poor boy, this young wizard, is a living example of the torment that our noble kind has had to endure at the hands of an inferior race of heathens. For centuries, our kind has been the target of unspeakable abuse and murder perpetrated by muggles, by animals that superficially mimic the carnal beauty that all wizard-kind possesses. These beasts, these muggles must be forced back into their natural place beneath us. It is time to set aside our innate compassion and resume our superior status among them. It is time to take back what is ours." Roaring thunderous applause followed the Dark Lord's impromptu speech. He cast his eyes down to Severus who was still kneeling meekly on the floor at Lord Voldemort's feet. "Stand up, my boy, and tell me where these filthy muggles are."


	48. Chapter 48

Lord Voldemort’s pride would never allow him to apparate into a dirty alley and await his victims’ arrival. Instead, he apparated directly into the muggle home that Jack and Jim shared, as is only fitting for a being of such superior status. Lucius and Severus followed, but had apparated into the alley and made sure no muggles were lurking before entering the home. The front door was always unlocked as no one, save Tobias Snape, had the courage to provoke the fearsome brothers. Severus immediately sat on the nearest chair, but rose again when Lucius cast a disapproving look in his direction. Severus was in familiar, impoverished, muggle surroundings and had forgotten himself. He needed to practice the rules of social propriety as taught to him by Abraxas Malfoy. Severus was a quick study and didn’t need to be reminded twice.  


Neither Lucius nor the Dark Lord wanted to touch anything. They were careful not to accidentally bump against something and acted as though everything in the home was contaminated. Lucius placed a pristinely white and perfectly starched handkerchief over his nose and mouth. The Dark Lord had an expression of profound disdain on his face. Truth be told, the house was as dirty and smelly and Severus’ parents’ hovel, but he was accustomed to such surroundings and it all seemed normal to him.  
  
The three wizards didn’t have to wait long for Jack and Jim to arrive. The two brothers could be heard singing from halfway up the street. They staggered in the door laughing and smelling strongly of scrumpy, their favorite drink. They sobered up instantly when they realized that three men were waiting for them. Their eyes quickly scanned the room and locked momentarily onto Severus, but his familiar presence only made them more suspicious.  
  
“Well, look at that, lad,” said Jim to his brother. “Wee Sevvie’s brought his pansy friends over for some fun.”  
  
“Sorry ladies,” replied Jack with a malicious laugh, “but we don’t go that way.”  
  
Severus felt a raging fury begin to boil in the pit of his stomach. The mere sight of the two brothers angered him almost to the point of madness. Lord Voldemort’s presence was the only thing that kept him from aiming his wand, which he gripped so tightly that the tips of his fingers were beginning to tingle. His eyes shot to the Dark Lord’s face and he was surprised by Voldemort’s coldly calm demeanor. The Dark Lord said nothing, nor did he lift his wand, yet both men were placed in full-body binds and were unable to speak. Instead of addressing the brothers, the Dark Lord addressed Severus.  
  
“A wizard should always know his place.” Lord Voldemort studied Severus for several seconds, and Severus wasn’t quite sure what he should do. He felt a deft and stealthy probe in his mind, and his Occlumency skills defensively kicked in. Occlumency was a natural skill for him, but one that Severus hadn’t yet developed to its fullest potential. The Dark Lord resumed speaking, his eyes still locked onto Severus’. “Lesser beings should never be permitted to address their superiors as equals. It upsets the natural order. All manner of catastrophes occur when inferior beings are permitted authority greater than they’re capable of wielding. I understand that you have a skill for Potions-making,” said Voldemort abruptly.  
  
“Yes, my Lord,” replied Severus with proud.  
  
“Potions-making doesn’t require much magical ability to master.” Severus felt his face flush with both temper an embarrassment. Lord Voldemort saw his reaction and grinned. “Even a wizard with the meanest level of magical ability can brew potions. Am I correct?”  
  
“Yes, my Lord,” said Severus, careful not to answer too sharply.  
  
“And yet muggles are incapable of producing even the simplest of potions.” Severus now understood the Dark Lord’s meaning. “Can muggles cure themselves of ailments? Can they heal themselves with a single goblet-ful of liquid?”  
  
Having grown up around muggles, Severus was fully aware that muggles did, in fact, make medicine for themselves, and were capable of healing some of their ailments; perhaps not to magical standards, but they were still able to heal themselves. Muggle medicine was just as complex an area of study as was the art of magical healing and Severus would’ve argued that point of distinction, but wouldn’t dare do something so aggressively foolish with a wizard capable of such powerful non-verbal wandless magic. His only safe option was to agree. The several seconds it took Severus to work things out in his mind didn’t go unnoticed. Lucius politely cleared his throat and Severus quickly answered. “Certainly not, my Lord.”  
  
Lord Voldemort smiled pleasantly and seemed to be genuinely pleased with Severus’ response. He turned his attention back to the two men, who were now in a state of blind terror because they couldn’t understand why they were unable move or speak. “Let us teach these vermin a lesson in humility.” Voldemort looked between the two brothers before choosing Jack as his first victim. He pointed his wand at Jack and casually uttered, “Crucio.” Jim’s eyes widened to an impossible size as he watched in fear and confusion as Jack’s body thrashed about the floor.  
  
Jack’s mouth was agape and he appeared to be screaming, but he made no sound until Voldemort grew bored and released the spell he’d placed on him. Jim’s eyes teared and he grimaced as his beloved brother screamed in a kind of agony Jim had never heard in his life. Jack and Jim had done physical harm to many during their thuggish reign. They’d beaten people and broken fingers, and arms, and legs, but none of their victims had ever made the kind of sickening sounds that Jack was making now. Jim tried to beg Voldemort to stop, but no sound emerged from his lips.  
  
Jack’s agonized screams were like bird-song to Voldemort’s ears. He turned away from Jack to study Severus’ face and was pleased to see an expression of great satisfaction upon it. Lord Voldemort used the Killing Curse on Jack and released Jim from his body-bind. Jim, being a dim-witted muggle, would need time to understand that his brother was dead. He shook Jack and felt his neck for a pulse. “What are you?” shouted Jim at Voldemort. Before he was able to rise, Voldemort hit him with the Cruciatus Curse. Jim writhed and screamed in agony just as his brother had done.  
  
The painful gyrations caused by the Cruciatus made Jim repeatedly kick Jack’s dead body. But the combination of being Crucioed and having watched his brother’s torturous death was too much for Jim; he died before Voldemort had the chance to use the Killing Curse on him. His body stilled and his screams abruptly stopped. Jack’s body looked still and blank. Jim’s body was left in a ghastly pose, neither of which bothered Severus in the slightest.  
  
“Weak heart, perhaps,” said Voldemort with a shrug. In a further test for Severus, Voldemort asked him what they should do next.  
  
“Um…make it look like an accident…or like they did it to themselves.”  
  
“Go on,” said Voldemort.  
  
Severus raised his wand and cried, “Sectum Sempra.” Large hideous gashes appeared on the two bodies.  
  
“I am not familiar with that spell,” said Lord Voldemort.  
  
“It’s my own, my Lord,” replied Severus.  
  
“Is it? Well, you are a clever fellow, aren’t you? Carry on.” He turned and whispered to Lucius. “Well done, Lucius.” Malfoy preened like a peacock knowing that he’d be amply rewarded for recommending Severus’ service.  
  
Severus pointed his wand again and excitedly shouted, “Exsanguinate!” Partially coagulated blood began to seep from the wounds and pooled around the bodies. Severus took a box of matches and a pack of cigarettes from the brothers’ pockets and transfigured them into straight razors. He placed one razor in the right hand of both bodies.  
  
“Excellent,” said Lord Voldemort. “Now for your muggle father.”  
  
The three men apparated directly into the Snape home’s sitting room. Tobias was seated and dosing in his favorite chair. He was momentarily startled and sobered up immediately. He lurched out of his chair the instant he recognized that three people had materialized out of thin air and stood in front of him. Tobias wasn’t frightened. He knew enough about magic that the men’s appearance didn’t petrify him. He was incensed that they had the audacity to invade his home. His eyes locked onto his defiant and determined-looking son.  
  
“I’ll not have their kind in my home! Get ‘em out!” growled Tobias as he lunged to grab hold of the front of Severus’ shirt.  
  
“Severus!” said the Dark Lord, and Severus thrust his wand into the air, but was only able to knock Tobias backwards and off his feet. Lord Voldemort glared at Severus and placed Tobias in a full body-bind, but allowed him to shout a foul-mouthed tirade. “Having second thoughts?”  
  
“No, my Lord!” blurted a mortified Severus. He was overcome by anger and hatred of his father and a desperate need to please Voldemort. “I…it…it’s this damn wand! It’s a hand-me-down and it resists me!”  
  
Lord Voldemort’s jaw set and his eyes narrowed. “Your mother didn’t buy you a proper wand?”  
  
“No, my Lord,” said Severus as he held his wand for Voldemort to see. “This was my grandfather’s wand.”  
  
“Vermin!” shouted Voldemort as he rounded on Tobias. The Dark lord prowled the room in a frenzy. Lucius deftly guided Severus into a corner for safety. Even when utterly terrified, Lucius still managed to appear in control of both himself and the situation. Severus thought that was the product of good breeding and envied Lucius’ control.  
  
“Put down that magic stick and we’ll see what sort of man you are!” shouted Tobias.  
  
Voldemort stashed his wand in his sleeve. “ _I_ am the source of my power.” He flicked his index finger and released Tobias, who immediately rose to his feet and charged at him. Severus opened his mouth to warn the Dark Lord of Tobias’ fighting skill, but Lucius shushed him before he’d uttered anything. Another flick of Voldemort’s finger sent Tobias crashing into a bookcase. He rose more cautiously this time and circled Voldemort, looking for a weakness to attack. Tobias slowly inched his way forward hoping to take Voldemort by surprise. His balled right fist shot forward in a flash, but was stopped by an invisible force before it connected with Voldemort’s ribs. Again Tobias was flung across the room; he landed on a small table that broke under his weight. Each time Tobias was knocked down, the Dark Lord allowed him to rise and try again. Tobias began to tire, but his determination didn’t wane.  
  
Tobias sailed across the room; his head hit the fireplace mantle and set off one of Eileen’s booby traps. A small grouping of poisoned darts shot out, one of which grazed Tobias’ shoulder. A flick of Voldemort’s finger sent the darts flying into the cushion of Tobias’ chair. Tobias was dazed, tired, and breathing heavily. The poison’s effect began almost immediately, but its ultimate effect took a little time. Tobias’ heavy breathing turned into a struggle for breath. His chest heaved, but he was unable to draw in enough air. His skin and lips turned blue and his eyes rolled wildly in their sockets. He clawed at his throat and tried to pry his mouth open even wider. It took nearly five minutes for Tobias to die.  
  
Lord Voldemort was enraged that his fun had been taken away from him. He wanted to kill the filthy muggle himself, but was deprived of the pleasure because of Eileen’s bizarre booby trap. He whirled around and stalked up the stairs in search of her. Severus moved to follow, but Lucius caught his arm.  
  
“Best not to annoy him further, Severus.”  
  
Eileen was easy to find; her bedroom door was open and she lay on her bed in her tattered housedress. The bedroom smelled strongly of sweat and faintly of body soil. Voldemort wrinkled his nose as he entered. The ruckus downstairs had roused Eileen, but she wasn’t quite able to rise just yet. The sight of Tom Riddle standing at the foot of her bed startled her and she jumped up only to get dizzy and fall back down onto her dirty yellow-stained pillow.  
  
“What have you done to yourself, Eileen?” Voldemort’s expression was dour, his voice low. “I recall a promising pureblooded young witch with many worthy suitors. And now I see a muggle-loving wretch who is too hungover to even sit up.” Some of what Tom said was true. She was undoubtedly a pureblood and though she was somewhat lacking in magical ability, her keen intelligence more than made up for her magical failings. As for her suitors; yes, she had them, but they wanted to ally themselves with her powerful father and had no real affection for her.  
  
Eileen desperately wanted a man to love her for herself, and she thought she’d found that man in Tobias. He was fun-loving and agreeable until she told him that she was pregnant with Severus and they were forced to marry for propriety’s sake. Their marriage was a relatively happy one until Severus came along and Tobias learned how expensive raising a child could be. Tobias wasn’t a good provider and had no intentions of becoming one. He had no interest whatsoever in his newborn son and Eileen named the baby with no input at all from Tobias. He and Eileen fought almost constantly over money and their tenuous relationship quickly crumbled.  
  
“Are you just going to lay there, Eileen? Have you nothing to say for yourself?”  
  
“Let me be, Tom. My life is my own business.”  
  
Voldemort was rankled by the use of his muggle name. “I—am—Lord—Voldemort,” he said through gritted teeth.


	49. Chapter 49

Voldemort stashed his wand in his sleeve. “ _I_ am the source of my power.” He flicked his index finger and released Tobias, who immediately rose to his feet and charged at him. Severus opened his mouth to warn the Dark Lord of Tobias’ fighting skill, but Lucius shushed him before he’d uttered anything. Another flick of Voldemort’s finger sent Tobias crashing into a bookcase. He rose more cautiously this time and circled Voldemort, looking for a weakness to attack. Tobias slowly inched his way forward hoping to take Voldemort by surprise. His balled right fist shot forward in a flash, but was stopped by an invisible force before it connected with Voldemort’s ribs. Again Tobias was flung across the room; he landed on a small table that broke under his weight. Each time Tobias was knocked down, the Dark Lord allowed him to rise and try again. Tobias began to tire, but his determination didn’t wane.  
  
Tobias sailed across the room; his head hit the fireplace mantle and set off one of Eileen’s booby traps. A small grouping of poisoned darts shot out, one of which grazed Tobias’ shoulder. A flick of Voldemort’s finger sent the darts flying into the cushion of Tobias’ chair. Tobias was dazed, tired, and breathing heavily. The poison’s effect began almost immediately, but its ultimate effect took a little time. Tobias’ heavy breathing turned into a struggle for breath. His chest heaved, but he was unable to draw in enough air. His skin and lips turned blue and his eyes rolled wildly in their sockets. He clawed at his throat and tried to pry his mouth open even wider. It took nearly five minutes for Tobias to die.  
  
Lord Voldemort was enraged that his fun had been taken away from him. He wanted to kill the filthy muggle himself, but was deprived of the pleasure because of Eileen’s bizarre booby trap. He whirled around and stalked up the stairs in search of her. Severus moved to follow, but Lucius caught his arm.  
  
“Best not to annoy him further, Severus.”  
  
Eileen was easy to find; her bedroom door was open and she lay on her bed in her tattered housedress. The bedroom smelled strongly of sweat and faintly of body soil. Voldemort wrinkled his nose as he entered. The ruckus downstairs had roused Eileen, but she wasn’t quite able to rise just yet. The sight of Tom Riddle standing at the foot of her bed startled her and she jumped up only to get dizzy and fall back down onto her dirty yellow-stained pillow.  
  
“What have you done to yourself, Eileen?” Voldemort’s expression was dour, his voice low. “I recall a promising pureblooded young witch with many worthy suitors. And now I see a muggle-loving wretch who is too hungover to even sit up.” Some of what Tom said was true. She was undoubtedly a pureblood and though she was somewhat lacking in magical ability, her keen intelligence more than made up for her magical failings. As for her suitors; yes, she had them, but they wanted to ally themselves with her powerful father and had no real affection for her.  
  
Eileen desperately wanted a man to love her for herself, and she thought she’d found that man in Tobias. He was fun-loving and agreeable until she told him that she was pregnant with Severus and they were forced to marry for propriety’s sake. Their marriage was a relatively happy one until Severus came along and Tobias learned how expensive raising a child could be. Tobias wasn’t a good provider and had no intentions of becoming one. He had no interest whatsoever in his newborn son and Eileen named the baby with no input at all from Tobias. He and Eileen fought almost constantly over money and their tenuous relationship quickly crumbled.  
  
“Are you just going to lay there, Eileen? Have you nothing to say for yourself?”  
  
“Let me be, Tom. My life is my own business.”  
  
Voldemort was rankled by the use of his muggle name. “I—am—Lord—Voldemort,” he said through gritted teeth.  
  
A swell of aristocratic pride welled up in Eileen. “My dear father refused to call you by that ridiculous title and so do I,” growled Eileen as she slowly pushed herself up to sit with her back against the bed’s headboard. “Cassian Prince was a noble wizard, not a pathetic half-blood despot like you.”  
  
Voldemort’s jaw tightened and his upper lip twitched. He balled his fists in temper. “Blood traitor!” he screamed. “How dare you insult me! You lie in your own filth and poison your offspring’s blood! You’re a disgrace to the house of Prince!” Eileen didn’t need to be told that she’d shamed her family. She’d learned just how ashamed they were of her when she told them that she’d eloped with Tobias and was having his child. Her mother broke down in tears, and her father disowned her and barred her from entering the family home.  
  
Eileen’s pureblood parents wanted her to marry well and had been planning her marriage since her birth. Their own marriage had been arranged in early childhood as was common among purebloods. Although Cassian and Delilah’s marriage had been pre-arranged and they had no real affection for each other, they had an understanding and an agreeable union. Cassian had expressed disappointment that Delilah was so frail and worried that she’d not be able to produce an heir. After many years and much intervention from healers, she gave birth to Eileen. Cassian had hoped for a son, but at least he had a healthy heir, and he could look forward to training a grandson.  
  
Neither one of Eileen’s parents was affectionate with her, but they provided well for her education and gave her a comfortable upbringing. She had a peaceful and protected, but lonely childhood. Delilah was a gentle disciplinarian who greatly valued learning. She was disappointed that her daughter wasn’t pretty and took too much for her father. Cassian’s rugged features looked appealing on a man, but not so attractive on a slight young girl. Delilah’s perpetual fussing over her daughter’s appearance gave Eileen a terrible sense of inferiority; she felt unlovable.  
  
Cassian was neither a warm father, nor was he an unkind one. He never criticized his daughter’s appearance, only her lack of magical skill. Cassian prided himself on his great power. He wasn’t troubled by his daughter’s weakness, only that she’d pass on that weakness to her male offspring.  
  
Despite her profound disappointment in her daughter, Delilah sent a midwife and a healer to attend Severus’ birth. Eileen was hopeful that her mother was warming to the idea of a half-blood grandchild. When Eileen learned that she’d had a son, she hoped that her father would come to accept him as Cassian greatly desired a male heir. Eileen wasn’t daring enough to name her son after her father as she feared Cassian’s wrath. She chose the name Severus after a distant and highly regarded relative from the Prince line, and chose Cassian as a middle name in the hopes that her father might view it as a sort of peace offering, a subtle way of honoring him.  
  
Eileen wrote letters and sent pictures of baby Severus weekly. She didn’t receive a reply until Severus was six-months old. Cassian’s familiar spiky handwriting on the envelope made Eileen’s blood run cold. The letter, also in her father’s hand, informed her of her mother’s passing and that she wasn’t welcome at the funeral. She was further instructed to cease writing letters and to stop sending pictures of ‘it’. Eileen felt a profound sense of guilt and convinced herself that her unwholesome behavior had killed her frail mother. Still, she held out hope that Cassian would take her back someday.  
  
Severus had just turned three when Eileen grew bold enough to ask her father for help. She and Tobias had, had a frightful row and Eileen was covered in bruises. It wasn’t the first time Tobias had hit her, but it was by far the most severe beating she’d taken. Eileen apparated outside the menacing front gates of her father’s manor house; little Severus, who stood by her side, promptly vomited. Sidelong apparation was frowned upon for young children, but Eileen had no other means of transportation. She wore a cloak with a hood to cover the bruises on her face. She’d expected a house-elf to greet her and shivered with trepidation when she saw a tall, black-haired, broad-shouldered, and imperious figure clad in black robes with a modest amount of gold adornment striding toward her.  
  
“You were warned not to come here.” Cassian’s low silky voice was dangerously soft.  
  
“Please, Father, hear me out,” begged Eileen.  
  
Cassian folded his arms across his chest. “Speak.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Father,” blurted Eileen. “I’ve shamed you, and I’m sorry. I made a terrible mistake. I know that now.”  
  
“You made two,” replied Cassian, unmoved.  
  
Eileen pulled her hood away from her face revealing the blackened eyes, bruised cheeks, and swollen split lips. She hoped to melt her father’s stern icy countenance. Cassian’s expression didn’t change, but his right index finger, on his wand hand, began to rapidly tap against his upper arm. He was furious. Little Severus clung to the back of his mother’s cloak. She reached down and pulled him in front of her. Cassian flicked his eyes downward and saw mirror images of his own coal-black eyes staring up at him. His finger stopped tapping. Cassian turned his head away from his daughter and said quietly, “It bears my name.”  
  
“He looks like you, doesn’t he?” said Eileen hopefully. “He’s so much like you, Father, and he’s so very clever. Severus, say hello to your grandfather.” Eileen pushed Severus forward, but he was too frightened to speak.  
  
Cassian’s lip quivered and his shoulders twitched just slightly. Eileen had managed to crack the ice just a little and grew more hopeful. Cassian’s silky voice trembled as he spoke, his head still turned away from his daughter; “Fornicating with animals…my own daughter.” He turned abruptly and stalked away, leaving Eileen and Severus standing outside the black iron gates.  
  
Eileen grew to hate the very sight of her son. Severus was the reason Cassian turned his back on his daughter and left her unprotected. She’d maintained hope that Cassian would relent until the day she heard that he’d been killed in a duel with seven of the Ministry’s best aurors. All seven suffered grievous injuries. The one wizard that was finally able to bring down the great Cassian Prince was the renowned auror Alistor Moody. The only wizard who could free Eileen, who could protect her, was gone forever.  
  
Eileen’s world collapsed in on itself and her mind slowly became addled. She treated Severus with a mixture of contempt and hopeful expectation. Severus looked like a slighter, homelier version of Cassian. He had his grandfather’s low silky voice. Perhaps someday he would grow to be a powerful wizard who could save Eileen from her dismal predicament. Severus took the blame for Eileen’s unhappiness, and he was also the object of all her hopes.  
  
She began filling young Severus’ mind with tales of Cassian’s greatness and gave him hope that he would someday be like his magnificent grandfather. She also began teaching her son a rigorous magical curriculum to prepare him for Hogwarts, but only when Tobias wasn’t home. The day Severus left on the Hogwarts Express, Eileen gave him her most-prized possession and one of the few things that had been bequeathed to her—Cassian’s acacia-wood wand.  
  
“Nothing to say for yourself, Eileen?” said Tom. The sound of his high voice brought Eileen back to the present. “Nothing to say in your own defense?”  
  
“I don’t have to explain myself to you, Tom.”  
  
Riddle slowly reached in his sleeve to draw his wand. “There is nothing more abhorrent to me than the waste of pure magical blood. Pledge your allegiance to me and I will spare your life.”  
  
“My dear father refused to bow to you, and so do I,” spat Eileen. Cassian had no love of muggles and viewed them as less than human, but he had no desire to slaughter them. There wasn’t a witch or wizard before or since who was more cunning than Cassian Prince, and very few who were his magical equal. Although Riddle’s magical abilities were greater than Cassian’s, the elder wizard had no fear of him; cunning and cleverness could always defeat brawn. It was Riddle’s charm and ability to gain large groups of followers that worried Cassian. A lone wizard always had weaknesses to exploit; an army is a much more dangerous foe. Eileen’s father saw through Tom Riddle’s rhetoric the first time he met the young upstart, and he’d warned Abraxas to be cautious, but Cassian’s warnings fell on deaf ears. Abraxas’ egotism made him easy prey for the silver-tongued Riddle. Lord Malfoy’s backing was crucial to Tom’s success.  
  
“I won’t be moved by idle threats,” said Eileen with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Now get out of my house.” Eileen instantly regretted her defiance. Riddle aimed his wand at her and she screamed for Severus, who broke free of Lucius and bounded up the stairs. He found his mother slumped over in her bed with saliva running out of her mouth.  
  
“I am sorry,” said Voldemort with as much false empathy as he could muster. “I offered to help her, but she refused. I had no choice.” Voldemort placed his hand gently on Severus’ shoulder. “You understand, don’t you?” Severus nodded; he was unable to speak. He couldn’t take his eyes off his mother’s body. Lord Voldemort holstered his wand and strode out of the room. He waved for Severus to follow him downstairs. “Let the muggle authorities dispose of the waste. Lucius?”  
  
“My Lord,” replied Lucius with a grand bow.  
  
“Would you be good enough to help this young man get a proper wand?”  
  
“I’d be delighted, my Lord,” came the expected reply.  
  
“Most generous of you, Lucius,” said the Dark Lord. He turned to say farewell to Severus, who impulsively dropped to his knees.  
  
“I’m a poor man, my Lord. I have no way to repay you, except to offer you my service.” This was exactly what the Dark Lord had hoped to hear.  
  
“Do you pledge to be my servant?”  
  
“I do, my Lord,” said Severus emphatically.  
  
“Will you answer my call at any time, for any reason?”  
  
“Yes, my Lord.”  
  
“Do you pledge to be loyal to me unto death?”  
  
“I do, my Lord,” replied Severus, a little too quickly.  
  
“Hold out your left arm and roll up the sleeve.” Severus did as instructed and Voldemort pressed the tip of his wand into the skin of Severus’ forearm. Severus was proud of himself for not wincing. “Morsmordre,” said Voldemort and Severus felt a burning hot pain shoot through his arm to the rest of his body. The pain was so severe that he was unable to utter a sound or draw a breath. Severus’ vision blackened. When he awoke, he was lying on the dirty floor alone in the hovel. His left forearm ached, and the pain that radiated from it slowly withdrew from the rest of his body like the uncoiling of a snake. He was simultaneously admiring and frightened of the Dark Mark that was permanently embedded into his skin. He immediately rose and left in search of a public telephone to contact the local police.  
  
Eileen’s death was deemed to be by natural causes. Tobias was well known to be a street fighter and had been arrested many times for public fighting and for disturbing the peace. His battered body was believed to be the result of someone finally getting the better of him. He died from asphyxiation due to collapsed lungs. Severus was never suspect in his parents’ deaths. Lucius paid for their funerals, citing that it would be suspicious not to give them proper burials. Their services were modest, as was befitting their social status. Severus did not attend. He felt neither joy nor sadness, neither pride nor regret, regarding his parents’ death. What he did feel was an almost indescribable lightness, as though a tremendous burden had been lifted from him. Severus surmised that this is what happiness must feel like.  
  
Lucius arrived at the hovel the morning after the funeral and took Severus to Ollivander’s for a new wand.  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t have your own wand?”  
  
“I didn’t want you to think me a beggar,” replied Severus. He placed his hand on Lucius’ to stop him from opening the shop door. “We could go elsewhere and get a less expensive wand.”  
  
“You shall have the finest wand that Ollivander can provide.” Lucius pulled open the shop door and pushed Severus inside.  
  
“Good morning, gentlemen,” said Garrick Ollivander.  
  
“Good morning, Mr. Ollivander,” replied Lucius. “My companion here needs a wand. It will be his first.”  
  
Ollivander eyed Severus and adjusted his spectacles. “A first wand at your age? You’re quite a late bloomer.”  
  
“I was given a hand-me-down, Mr. Ollivander.”  
  
“Oh, that is often unwise,” replied Ollivander. “May I see the wand?” Severus un-holstered Cassian’s wand and handed it to Ollivander, who immediately began to rattle off the wand’s components. “Acacia wood, fourteen-and-a-quarter inches, temperamental and very unyielding, dragon heartstring from an Hungarian Horntail—and a particularly vicious specimen too. This is a very powerful and very stubborn wand.” Ollivander was silent for a moment. He looked up from the wand and said, “This belonged to Cassian Prince. Are you his son?”  
  
“His grandson, Mr. Ollivander.”  
  
“Ah, then your mother would be Eileen Prince?”  
  
“Yes, sir,” replied Severus.  
  
“Hers was a reserved wand, not particularly powerful, but highly accurate when in use. It was a near copy of her mother’s wand, just a little shorter and neater. They were both walnut with unicorn-hair cores, both a bit delicate and somewhat rigid. Your mother’s wand was nine-and-a-quarter inches; your grandmother’s was nine-and-three-quarter inches.”  
  
Ollivander handed Cassian’s wand back and began looking through his stacks of wand boxes, mumbling to himself. He ruled out unicorn-hair cores almost immediately. He tried a great variety of woods and lengths: acacia, walnut, hornbeam, yew, ash, cedar, blackthorn, and hawthorn; none of them accepted Severus. Ollivander settled on various lengths of pine wands with a variety of dragon-heartstring cores and one with a phoenix-feather core. He was stunned that none of them bonded with Severus. Pine seemed like the perfect wood-pairing for this dark shadowy young man. Ollivander took Severus’ hands in his and examined them closely. Severus frowned, but Lucius urged him to cooperate. The intrigued wand-maker disappeared into the back of his shop and emerged seconds later with a very dusty box in his hands.  
“This was one of the first wands that I made after I completed my apprenticeship. It’s been waiting many years for the perfect owner.” Ollivander lifted the dusty lid to reveal a very handsome red-oak wand. “Red oak, twelve inches, a bit stubborn, but quite nimble; an exceedingly handsome wand if I do say so myself.”  
  
“Indeed it is, Mr. Ollivander,” said Lucius, genuinely admiring the wand’s beauty. “Go on, Severus, we’re bound to find the right one eventually.”  
  
As soon as Severus’ fingers closed around the hilt, he knew this was the right wand for him. A strong sense of warmth and familiarity coursed through him; feelings he never had when holding Cassian’s wand. Severus smiled broadly in spite of himself.  
  
“That’s the one,” said Ollivander proudly. “The core is dragon heartstring from a very ancient Peruvian Vipertooth; an impressive wand in both appearance and skill.”  
  
“And the cost of this exquisite wand?” said Lucius.  
  
“Ten galleons,” said Ollivander. Severus thought it a princely sum. He set the wand back in its box.  
  
“Something wrong, Severus?” said Lucius.  
  
“I wonder if I might have it stained black?”  
  
“What? That’s a very bizarre request,” said Ollivander sharply.  
  
“But why, Severus? It’s a very handsome wand.”  
  
“It _is_ a handsome wand, Lucius” said Severus. “But it’s red oak, an obvious dueling wand. A wand that attractive will draw a great deal of attention, and I prefer not to entice wizards determined to prove their worth. Is it possible, Mr. Ollivander?”  
  
“It is,” said Ollivander, his tone dour. “The staining process won’t hurt the wand in any way. It’ll be ready for you tomorrow afternoon.”  
  
“A prudent choice, Severus, but a disheartening one,” said Lucius. He paid in advance and Severus retrieved the wand himself the following day.  
  
The fog in Severus’ mind cleared and he found himself standing in front of the dusty old mantle where his father had died. His mother had booby-trapped it for a reason, but Severus had never bothered to find out what that reason was. He wanted nothing of hers except her books, most of which had originally belonged to her mother Delilah. Severus tried to unclutter his mind, no easy task once the hovel had swallowed him up. He’d dawdled long enough and was late returning to Hogwarts. He disapparated with a tiny pop.


	50. Chapter 50

Weeks passed before Snape could face Lindsay. He had precious little time between his workload, keeping his eyes on Potter and company, and making himself a thorn in Umbridge’s side. He felt no small amount of embarrassment when he thought of his behavior the last time he was in Miss Gray’s company. He and a few members of the Order had been secretly watching her for her own safety.  
  
By the time Snape plucked up the courage to face Lindsay, the work at her home was finished. Snape didn’t care what anything looked like; he only cared about functionality. Lindsay chatted happily about how well everything turned out, and Snape had to admit that the décor was much less feminine than he’d expected. She’d gone out of her way to make a space that he’d be comfortable in. The Potions Lab and storage rooms were purely functional spaces with bare stone walls, racks of shelving, and long tables.  
  
The study next to the Potions labs was a neat uncluttered space with a large, dark, mahogany desk, an antique by the looks. The walls had dark-wood wainscoting and the space above was covered in cream wallpaper with a subtle silver floral pattern. Two dark-green leather armchairs sat facing each other in front of the fireplace. The room was plain and functional, and not too cheery or too dark. It was a relaxing space.  
  
The courtyard outside the study was paved in stone with a few black wrought-iron benches lining the walls with plain, black, iron torches above them. The crumbling stone steps had been removed and the entire space was completely enclosed on three sides, making it inaccessible from the garden unless an intruder was willing to push through thick old-growth shrubbery and scale tall stone walls. Lindsay had followed his recommendations to the letter and created a perfect dueling space. Snape loved it.  
  
Lindsay chattered happily about all the work that had been done and how pleased she was with the outcome. Snape didn’t respond aside from following her around to look at everything. Lindsay abruptly changed course in the middle of her chatter, which was out of character for her. “Professor, I have to apologize for my behavior the last time you were here. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”  
  
“The fault is entirely mine,” replied Snape. “I had an urgent meeting.”  
  
“Oh, I see. I feel better now.” Lindsay assumed he was referring to being called by the Dark Lord and made no further comment on the subject. “You’re the first person to see the finished project…except for the workmen who fixed it, that is.”  
  
“Shall we christen it?” said Snape with a mischievous grin.  
  
“Are you challenging me to a duel, Professor?”  
  
“Not a legitimate one, of course,” replied Snape matter-of-factly. “I’d crucify you.”  
  
“You have such faith in me, Professor,” deadpanned Lindsay. She moved to the center of the dueling space and turned away from him. “I haven’t done this before. We start back to back, right?”  
  
Snape took her arm and turned her around. “Formalities are only observed in polite disputes and sporting events. Combat is something else entirely. Never turn your back on your opponent. Place your feet roughly shoulder-width apart. Your lead foot, the one under your wand hand, should be slightly forward and your weight should be evenly distributed. This position will allow you to keep your balance should you need to pivot away from an unfriendly spell.” Snape raised his wand and, without further instruction, fired a mild stinging hex at Lindsay. She allowed her natural defenses to absorb the hex, and it disappeared into a flash of blue light.  
  
“You won’t learn anything that way,” said Snape. “You may encounter a witch or wizard who can break through your defenses forcing you to rely on your wand skill. Restrain your natural defenses and attempt to pivot away from my attacking spells.” Snape raised his wand again. Being a trained dancer, Lindsay’s balance and reflexes were good. She evaded the hex with ease. “Again,” said Snape, and he fired several mild stinging hexes in rapid succession. Lindsay avoided all but the last, which caught her left shoulder.  
  
“Do you know why the last one hit you?”  
  
“Because you’re faster than me,” replied Lindsay.  
  
“No, you’re focusing too much on my wand hand, which disrupted your timing. If this were a fencing match, you’d lose distance perception by focusing on the weapon. Distance is irrelevant in a magical duel as far as a wizard’s attack range is concerned, but judging it correctly is vital for perfecting your timing when avoiding incoming spells. For example, if I fire a spell from six feet away, you will have a specific amount to either block it or move out of the way. If I fire a spell from twelve feet away, you’ll have more time to react. The difference will be only a split-second of time, but that split second can save your life, or take it. Let’s try again.”  
  
Snape fired several more hexes and every one hit Lindsay. He’d told her not to look at his wand so she watched his eyes, which was a mistake. She found herself feeling sluggish and her feet wouldn’t move the way she wanted them to.  
  
“This is not a muggle boxing match, Miss Gray. Never look in a wizard’s eyes during a duel or you risk losing control of your mind. As an Occlumency student, you should know that.”  
  
She should’ve known that, and Lindsay was annoyed with herself for being so careless. “Sorry, Professor.”  
  
“If you were in a real duel, you wouldn’t have time to be sorry. You’d be dead.” Snape lowered his wand. “Most sport duelists instruct their students to observe the shoulder of their opponent’s wand hand. Doing so will allow the student to see the movement of both their opponent’s body and wand.” Snape kept his wand lowered, but still instructed Lindsay to try again. She focused on his shoulder and caught sight of his left hand moving, but wasn’t able to move out of the way in time. She caught a painful stinging hex on her shoulder. The others were just strong enough to be noticeable; this one hurt.  
  
“Focusing on my shoulder was ill advised,” said Snape. He raised his left hand. “For those of us who are capable of wandless magic, the potency of cast spells is generally less than it would be when focused through a wand. If this were a real duel, and I had a wand in this hand, you’d be dead.”  
  
“You could’ve just told me that.”  
  
“Pain will make you remember better than verbal instruction.”  
  
“If I can’t look at your eyes, or your shoulder, or your wand, where do I look?”  
  
Snape placed his left hand on his chest. “Look at the center of my chest just under the neck. Observing this area will let you see where my body moves, which hand I use, and where I aim my wand. Keep your focus soft. If you stare too intently, you’ll miss too much. Try again.” Snape fired another barrage of hexes in rapid succession from both his wand and his empty left hand. Lindsay managed to avoid most of them. Snape was fast, but Lindsay could tell that he was holding back. He was a taskmaster, but he wasn’t so harsh that he made it impossible for his student to learn. Lindsay shuddered to think how devastating he could be in a real duel.  
  
“That was acceptable for a novice,” said Snape as he lowered his wand. “As you’ve learned, proper foot placement can help you avoid unfriendly spells that you’re unable to block, but the tactic is only useful against one or two opponents. Attempting to pivot away from spells coming from multiple opponents can put you in the path of an unseen spell, so use the tactic prudently.”  
  
Snape walked away from the center of the dueling strip and told Lindsay to do the same. There was just enough space to allow them to be knocked to the ground without hitting the stone walls behind them. “I want you to use your wand to block incoming spells.”  
  
“But I…” He didn’t give her enough time to protest and fired off several weak hexes in succession. She was a fast learner despite her lack of confidence and successfully used both her wand and her agility to avoid his attacking spells. Severus steadily increased the power of his attacks until Lindsay found herself being knocked off her feet. After the seventh time being knocked onto her backside, she conceded defeat. “I give up, Niketas. I’m vanquished.”  
  
Snape holstered his wand as he stalked toward her, stopping at her side. He proffered a hand and pulled her to her feet. “Niketas?”  
  
“It’s Greek. It means ‘winner.’ It seemed appropriate considering you knocked me onto my keister seven times in a row.”  
  
Snape’s reply was to walk toward the study door. Lindsay followed, a bit slowly and rubbing her bruised bottom. She was met at the study door by Snape who held two glasses of red wine in his hands and offered one to Lindsay. “I’m not a drinker, Professor,” said Lindsay and attempted to hand it back to him.  
  
“There’s barely a mouthful of wine in that glass. Drink it.”  
  
“There’s nothing wrong with being a tea-totaller, Professor.”  
  
“Not when it’s a choice; you do it out of fear. Drink that wine, and you’ll break Adam’s hold on you forever.” The abrupt turn of conversation took her by surprise. _Surely a small sip couldn’t be a bad thing, and it would please the Professor._ She raised the glass to her mouth, but froze when the scent of alcohol reached her nostrils. The scent of wine quickly turned to a memory of whiskey-scented hot breath and Lindsay began to feel dizzy and nauseous. Her vision blurred and darkened. A firm pincer-like grip wrapped around her arm and steadied her. “What you’re experiencing is a memory; push it away. You control your thoughts; they do not control you.”  
  
Lindsay raised the glass again and deliberately inhaled the wine’s fruity aroma. She forced the memory of the whiskey scent into a dark corner of her mind. She steadied herself and downed the wine in a single gulp. Snape took the glass from her hand and pushed her into an armchair. Lindsay’s vision cleared as she gained control over her emotions, and she saw Snape’s glass of wine floating next to him. He plucked it from the air and sat down across from her. There was no change in his expression.  
  
“How did it taste?”  
  
“Fruity and pleasant,” replied Lindsay; “although I wouldn’t make a habit of drinking it.”  
  
“That is your prerogative, but I would advise using it to test yourself occasionally.”  
  
This seemed to be as good a time as any. Lindsay rose, moved to the desk, and retrieved a small item from the top drawer. “I made something for you, Professor. I hope you’ll accept it.” Lindsay handed him the good-luck charm she’d made. She didn’t fully grasp the significance of her actions. She’d intended only to pour her gratitude and her concern for Snape’s welfare into something tangible. Giving an amulet to a wizard had far deeper meaning than she realized. Snape held the amulet in his hand and stared at it for several nervous seconds. He curtly nodded his head and said, “Thank you,” as he pocketed her gift. Lindsay let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She didn’t tell him about the amulet’s twin that she kept in her nightstand’s drawer.  
  
Snape drained his glass of wine and rose. This time he offered a polite farewell before leaving. He returned to his private rooms at Hogwarts and paced his sitting room with the amulet in his hand. “Oh, dear Merlin! What have I done?” He ran his thumb across the top of the amulet and could feel a subtle, barely perceptible emission of energy from it. The magic it produced was as unusual as its creator’s. It was a lovely gift—too lovely, and it was something he’d never in his wildest imagination expected to receive. This was the sort of gift given between family members, or between very dear friends; coming from Lindsay, it was tantamount to a betrothal. If the Dark Lord learned of this, he might see it as a sign of betrayal, or he might find it amusing that Snape’s sex slave had developed an affection for her master. Either way, Snape would likely be a dead man if he were caught with it.  
  
He pulled an old brown-leather pouch from inside his robes; it enlarged and unfolded itself when he laid it on the table next to his chair. The pouch contained an assortment of items useful to both a Potions master and a master of the Dark Arts: spare wands, dittany, a vial of bezoar stones, a vial of anti-venom made specifically for Nagini’s bite, a small mirror bound with a silver chain, and several other small items. Snape slipped the amulet into an empty sleeve and rolled up the pouch. He placed the pouch back in his robes and sat in his armchair. He felt calmer now and was thinking more clearly.  
  
Snape surmised that Lindsay was unaware of the profound meaning behind giving an amulet to a wizard. She still thought like a muggle and probably regarded the amulet as the muggle version of a lucky charm; a simple token of good luck and innocent affection. Part of Snape was elated; the other part of him was disappointed. He was a marked man so pursuing love would be pointless, but a strong and shameful feeling of lust was nagging at him. He also felt an obligation to protect Miss Gray, an unfortunate near-muggle lost in a world she doesn’t understand. Her presence was making a dangerous and complicated situation doubly so.


	51. Chapter 51

Despite Snape’s misgivings about continuing to associate with Miss Gray, he was obligated to visit her regularly if only to keep up appearances with the other Death Eaters, who were watching him closely and reporting back to their ever-suspicious master. He spent most of his time in the Potions lab that Miss Gray had taken to calling his “micro-dungeon.” She seemed to think the name amusing; he didn’t. He still hadn’t perfected an anti-venom for Nagini, nor had he produced a workable prototype for Miss Gray’s lycanthropy cure. Serving two masters while keeping a full-time job was taking its toll on him; he was exhausted.  
  
"Do you ever stop working, Severus?” asked Dumbledore as he entered the Potions laboratory.  
  
Snape looked up from brewing. “Brewing potions relaxes me.”  
  
“It’s important to rest one’s mind and body occasionally.”  
  
“I know you didn’t you come down here to engage in small talk.”  
  
“While it’s true that I require more in-depth information from you, Severus; it’s also true that I enjoy friendly conversation from time to time.”  
  
“I haven’t the time for pointless blather,” said Snape sharply.  
  
“I know you’re tired, Severus. I’m tired too, and I’m not so young a man as you.” Snape’s temper cooled and Dumbledore conjured a comfortable chair for himself. Snape remained standing over his cauldron. “Tell me about Umbridge. And the students, how are the students?”  
  
“There’s not much I can tell you about Umbridge that you don’t already know. She’s cruel, manipulative, power hungry and, fortunately for us, she’s not particularly clever.” That made Dumbledore smile and his clear blue eyes twinkled merrily. “She’s been interrogating students with veritaserum. I’ve been providing her with false serum for members of the Order. I’ve been deliberately irksome to her, but I have not been defying her as overtly as certain other members of the faculty.”  
  
“Yes, well Minerva’s Gryffindor temper gets the better of her where the children’s welfare is concerned. And you, my boy,” chuckled Dumbledore, “are a master at the art of subtle irritation.”  
  
“You’re too kind, Headmaster.”  
  
“Protect the students as best you can, Severus,” said Dumbledore more seriously, “but don’t risk losing your cover.”  
  
“Understood.”  
  
“And how is Harry?”  
  
Snape’s temper flared again, “Willful and defiant as ever.”  
  
“He has strength of character.”  
  
“He’s arrogant, lazy, and impossible to teach! I don’t know why you insist on making excuses for his shortcomings!”  
  
“We all have flaws, Severus.”  
  
“But we are not all the son of James Potter.”  
  
“Harry isn’t his father.”  
  
“He’s his twin,” countered Snape.  
  
“Superficially perhaps, but the less savory aspects of his character that he inherited from James are softened by Lily’s more sensible, kinder nature. Harry has a great deal of his mother in him, Severus.”  
“Lily was never a spoiled, petted brat!”  
  
“And neither is Harry,” replied Dumbledore, forcing his voice to remain calm and even. “James was overindulged as a child and that gave too much encouragement to the negative side of his personality, but he wasn’t all bad; just imperfect. Harry, like his father, is willful, but he will need that strength of will to resist Voldemort. You of all people know how manipulative Voldemort can be.” Snape returned his attention to the simmering cauldron, and his lack of verbal reply gave Dumbledore impetus to press the point. “Harry had an early childhood very much like yours, forlorn and lacking in affection.”  
  
“Thank you for that little trip down memory lane.”  
  
“You and Harry have much in common, Severus.”  
  
“You may be my superior, Dumbledore, but that doesn’t mean I’ll passively take insults from you,” barked Snape.  
  
“I don’t say these things to hurt you, Severus; only to point out that your similarly unpleasant childhood gives you a unique understanding of Harry’s situation, an understanding that could benefit both of you. You could offer the boy guidance in ways that no other could.”  
  
“I risk my life to protect his, isn’t that enough?” growled Snape.  
  
“I suppose so, Severus…I suppose,” replied Dumbledore. It was pointless to continue. Severus was a stubborn young man and agitating him would only make him more so. Dumbledore rose, his chair disappeared, and he quietly left the room.  
  
Lindsay had already begun preparing lunch by the time Albus climbed the stairs to the kitchen. “Did he kick you out too?”  
  
“Something like that, yes,” replied Albus.  
  
“Apparently I get in his way,” said Lin, smiling pleasantly. “He seems to be in kind of a funk these days.”  
  
“Severus has much on his mind.”  
  
“I guess he does,” said Lin. “Would you like lunch in here or outside?”  
  
“It’s a lovely day,” replied Albus. “We should enjoy it while we can.”  
  
“I doubt the dungeon gremlin will be joining us, but I’ll make enough anyway.”  
  
Albus strolled out to the patio and put his face up to the sunshine. Peaceful moments were hard to come by and he took advantage of them whenever he could. He heard Lin singing to herself as she puttered about the kitchen and watched her for a moment through the windows. He smiled to himself and wondered if this is what it would be like to have a daughter. It was a warm day and the swimming pool looked very inviting. Albus conjured a short-legged chair at the pool’s edge. He slipped off his shoes and socks and sat down with his feet dangling in the cool water.  
  
Lindsay carried lunch out on a large tray and sat in on the patio table. She saws the short chair at the pool’s edge, but it wasn’t occupied. She didn’t see Albus in the pool and assumed he was strolling in the garden, something he did quite often.  
  
“Lunch is ready!” shouted Lin. She didn’t receive an answer. “Albus?” She heard the sound of moving water, like someone had exited the pool and turned to see wet footprints appearing on the patio and striding toward her. Her blood chilled and she began to back up. She was just about to call for Professor Snape when she heard Albus’ familiar mischievous voice say, “Boo.” His body became visible in an instant. His eyes twinkled merrily as he laughed, making Lin break into a fit of hearty laughter too.  
  
“Albus, you’ll be the death of me.”  
  
“My mother used to say that too.”  
  
“I thought wizards needed cloaks to be invisible”  
  
“Most do,” said Albus as he sat to enjoy an inviting-looking lunch.  
  
“I suppose that means you’re not going to explain it to me?”  
  
“It’s probably best that I don’t,” replied Albus as he poured a glass of lemonade for his gracious hostess. “Lunch looks scrumptious.”  
  
Lindsay took her seat across from Albus. “It’s one of Molly’s recipes. I hope it turned out as well as hers always does.”  
  
Albus lifted a forkful. “Mmm, it’s delicious.”  
  
“Oh, thank you, I’ll be passing that thanks on to Molly later.” She sipped her lemonade and sized up Albus’ mood before speaking again. “I know it’s none of my business, but I have to say this; I’m flabbergasted that the Ministry would threaten to send you to Azkaban. Why, Albus…why would they do such an appalling thing?”  
  
Albus set his fork down and his shimmering blue eyes locked onto hers. His voice was even and pleasant, but it carried an unmistakable undertone of menace. “War is coming, Lin. It will be upon us before we know it. There are some in the Ministry who, for whatever personal reasons, have chosen the wrong side. Incarcerating me was a way of testing the waters, so to speak.”  
  
“You’re their greatest threat.”  
  
“That’s what they believe.”  
  
“Don’t you think it’s a bit dangerous to be sitting out in the open?”  
  
“Not at all,” smiled Albus as he lifted another forkful.  
  
“You’re as inscrutable as Professor Snape,” said Lin before the notion dawned on her. “Oh, I see. Why would Albus Dumbledore be housed with me, Professor Snape’s personal property?”  
  
“Precisely.”  
  
“Forgive me, Albus, but that’s a little stomach turning. I wonder when the Dark Lord will think me more trouble than I’m worth.”  
  
“You needn’t worry, Lin, everything will be taken care of.”  
  
“What about Hogwarts? Are the children safe without you there?”  
  
“Everything will be fine, Lin. The wheels are in motion. While we’re on the topic, I’ve asked some members of the Order to meet with me here this evening. I hope you don’t mind?”  
  
“Of course not, but I thought you used headquarters for meetings.”  
  
“This is a special meeting, Lin. It’ll be a small gathering.”  
  
“Do whatever you need to, Albus. Would you like dessert?”  
  
“I’d thought you’d never ask.”


	52. Chapter 52

It was late in the evening when members of the Order of the Phoenix began to arrive. They seemed to convene all at once, and appeared out of nowhere. Remus was the first to arrive by mere seconds, and he took the lead in escorting everyone else into a sitting room that sat off of the dining room where they all awaited individual meetings with Dumbledore, who’d commandeered Lindsay’s study for the purpose.  
Lindsay had prepared a buffet of finger foods in the dining room and guests were meandering between the two rooms. They were tired and anxious to get this meeting over with, so most were not being particularly sociable. Lindsay was currently in the kitchen accompanied by Fred and George.  
  
“I don’t know why you insist on washing dishes by hand,” said George as he drew his wand and pointed it at the dishes.  
  
“It relaxes me,” said Lin, as she stepped away from the sink to watch the dishes clean themselves and put themselves away.  
  
“What are you nervous about?” said Fred.  
  
“I’m not sure. I usually love having company in.”  
  
“It’s Mad-Eye Moody,” said Fred. “He creeps everyone out.”  
  
“Dishes are done,” said George as he took Lin by the arm. “Come on; let’s join the party while it lasts.”  
  
They hadn’t made it halfway across the kitchen when a dour form draped in black appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Good evening, Professor,” said Lindsay. The twins simply glared at him. Snape tilted his head toward her and swept by to disappear down the cellar steps.  
  
“What’s he doing in your cellar?” said Fred.  
  
“I don’t know. He’s working on a project of some sort.”  
  
“Wish Mum was that easy to get around,” mumbled Fred.  
  
“You don’t know what he’s doing in your house?” said George suspiciously.  
  
“I don’t really care what he’s doing. It’s just nice to have some company. This house is huge, I feel swallowed up in it.”  
  
“How in Merlin’s beard can the Git be considered company?”  
  
“Calm yourself, George,” said Fred. “We have a soiree to attend.”  
  
Lindsay found a seat in the sitting room and was flanked by Fred and George. Remus, Moody, and Arthur were standing closely together and were engaged in a disjointed conversation, apparently trying to keep each other awake. Arthur’s eyes kept drooping, but he insisted on standing.  
  
“If this continues much longer,” said Arthur, “I’ll be needing a Pepper Up potion.”  
  
“Who are we waiting for, Dad?” said Fred.  
  
“Daumantas Farrette.” Just as soon as Arthur said the name, Sirius Black entered the room escorting a thin small-framed man who wasn’t very much taller than Harry. He was clutching a large tan briefcase. The man looked much younger that his actual age, which made the small dabs of grey hair at his temples appear premature. Farrette was a first-year student at Hogwarts when Arthur was in his seventh year. He had short reddish-brown hair and large coppery brown eyes that were framed by gold-wire spectacles. Anyone who tried would be hard-pressed to imagine a more inoffensive-looking person. “There he is,” whispered Arthur as he smiled and nodded to Farrette, who responded in kind. Farrette didn’t get a chance to sit as a heavy-set dark-haired woman whom Lindsay didn’t know appeared in the doorway and immediately took Farrette to see Dumbledore; she then slipped quietly out the front door without saying farewell to anyone.  
  
“Is he with the Ministry, Dad?” said George.  
  
“Yes, Auror’s Office,” replied Arthur.  
  
“He’s an Auror?” blurted Fred. “You’re joking, right?”  
  
Moody harrumphed, “Quill scratcher.”  
  
“Farrette’s in the Investigation Department,” said Arthur.  
  
“What is that?” said Lindsay.  
  
“It’s a branch of the Auror Office that investigates claims of Dark Magic abuse. The Investigation Department researches dark witches and wizards—”  
  
“—and we Aurors do the real work and capture them,” finished Moody.  
  
“Farrette’s particular talent is tracking down cursed objects and bewitched creatures,” said Arthur.  
  
“What part of ‘I’ll tell you about it when I get back’ did you misunderstand?” said Remus to Sirius as the latter approached with a bright wide smile.  
  
“I got tired of waiting, and I want to have a talk with Albus,” replied Sirius.  
  
“So you risk safety and secrecy for a little chat?” growled Moody.  
  
“No one knows I’m here,” said Sirius in a dismissive tone with a manner to match.  
  
“Constant vigilance!” barked Mad-Eye as he took a step closer to Sirius. “You could’ve brought an army of Death Eaters here and you’d be none the wiser!”  
  
“Oh dear,” muttered Arthur. He stepped closer to Moody and Remus did the same with Sirius.  
  
“I’m not a damn fool, Moody!” shouted Sirius. “I escaped Azkaban without help and evaded capture with half the wizarding world looking for me!”  
  
“Only because the best of us were politely looking the other way!” replied Moody.  
  
“Stop it!” shouted Arthur. “We have enough opposition without turning on each other.”  
  
Remus pulled Sirius away and into the dining room. Lin followed and hurriedly filled wine glasses and began passing them out. Moody left to inspect the outside of the property for spies.  
  
“Let it go, Sirius,” said Remus. “It’s not worth fighting over.”  
  
“I’m not exactly an amateur, Remus. I fought in the first war. I know what’s at stake.”  
  
“Moody’s just tired—” said Remus.  
  
“So am I,” replied Sirius.  
  
“And irritable—”  
  
“Who isn’t?”  
  
“And paranoid.”  
  
“He’s got that one on me.”  
  
Lin was piling food onto a plate to take to Albus. “I suppose the Dark Lord could make anyone paranoid.”  
  
“Where did you learn that?” blurted Sirius.  
  
“Learn what?” said Lin.  
  
“That phrase, ‘the Dark Lord’? Only Death Eaters say that.”  
  
“I must’ve picked it up from Professor Snape. He says it alot.”  
  
“Don’t say it anymore, Lin,” warned Remus.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“You spend too much time with Snape,” said Sirius.  
  
“Don’t be silly. He’s harmless.”  
  
“He’s not harmless, and using Death Eater lingo will get you killed,” said Sirius.  
  
“I’ll be mindful of how I speak in the future, Sirius, but I won’t let you dictate who I can and can’t associate with.” Lindsay stormed out of the room, purposely ending the conversation.  
  
#  
  
“Good of you to come on such short notice, Dee,” said Albus as he waved his hand toward a chair indicating that Farrette should sit and make himself comfortable. “Would you like a drink, or perhaps a lemon drop?”  
  
“No thank you, Albus. If you don’t mind, I’m quite tired and would like to get straight to it.”  
  
“Certainly.” Albus seated himself behind the desk and Farrette was seated directly in front of him. Farrette set his large briefcase on the desk and began rifling through it. Albus waited patiently and silently. Dee Farrette didn’t appreciate small talk when he was working; it was too distracting. He lifted four hefty packets from his briefcase and set the case on the floor. He picked up the two largest stacks. “I prefer stacks of paper to lengthy rolls of parchment. I find it easier to collate information.” Albus nodded, lifted his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. “This largest stack is a list of known muggle deaths starting from Tom Riddle’s last year of Hogwarts until his death. As you can see, it’s a very long list.”  
  
“Yes, unfortunately,” replied Albus.  
  
“The next largest packet is a list of known deaths of magical persons.” Farrette passed the two stacks to Albus. “I don’t normally share my source material, Albus, but these are such lengthy lists that I fear I may have missed a few vital clues.”  
  
“I sincerely doubt that, Dee, but I’ll peruse them just the same.”  
  
“Thank you, Albus; it would put my mind to rest. There’s nothing I dislike more than a sloppy investigation.” Farrette dabbed the corners of his sleepy eyes with a handkerchief before continuing. “I have narrowed those lists somewhat by eliminating all natural deaths, explainable accidental deaths, and any deaths that are otherwise not noteworthy. This third largest packet contains the names of muggle deaths that I think are suspicious or otherwise significant. And the smallest packet is a list of witches and wizards who died suspiciously. I’m afraid the lists of names are still incredibly long, Albus.”  
  
“The sooner we start striking names off, the better.”  
  
“The parameters I used to begin removing names are imperfect, but nevertheless served as good starting points. You’ll see everything in my notes. Riddle’s high intelligence and secretive behavior have hampered my investigations considerably, and the fact that the Ministry is crawling with Riddle sympathizers hasn’t helped me much either.”  
  
“Do be careful, Dee. Don’t risk your cover or your safety.”  
  
“I’m a muggle-born, Albus, I know that I’ll be one of the first to go when the Death Eaters return to power. My affairs are already in order. I don’t fear death, certainly not at the hands of a malignant upstart. My only concern is that I don’t give anyone else away.”  
  
“Tom can do far worse things than kill you, Dee.”  
  
“What will be, will be.”  
  
“Are you quite sure you’re not a Gryffindor?” laughed Albus.  
  
“I was perfectly suited to Ravenclaw,” replied Farrette pleasantly. “Albus, you do realize that absolutely anything could’ve been used to make a Horcrux. It could even be an item that wasn’t personal to any of those poor unfortunate victims.”  
  
“I know that, Dee, but I must start somewhere. I believe that any Horcrux made by Riddle would have some personal significance to him, but I don’t want to ignore any other possibilities.”  
  
Farrette yawned. “Oh, forgive me.”  
  
“Go home, Dee. Get some rest.” Farrette stood, collected his briefcase, and shook Albus’ outstretched hand before leaving. “Please be careful, Dee, and contact me if you need any assistance.”  
  
Farrette left the study and made his way to the top of the staircase. He’d just put his hand on the banister when he began to feel dizzy. Lindsay was on her way up the stairs with a tray of food for Albus.  
  
“Are you alright, Mr. Farrette?”  
  
“Yes, yes, I’m fine, thank you. I skipped dinner. I just need to eat.”  
  
Lindsay hurried up the stairs and lifted the napkin off the plate. “Here, take something. Albus won’t mind. Wait here and I’ll walk you down, Mr. Farrette.”  
  
“It’s just Farrette, dear, or Dee if you like. I have no preference.”  
  
Lin hurried in to Albus’ temporary study and gave him his platter of food. “I hope I’m not bothering you, Albus. I thought you might like something to eat.”  
  
“Yes, thank you, I’m famished.” Lin set down the platter and Albus took her hand in his. “Something’s come up, Lin. I’ll be traveling for a bit. I have to leave first thing in the morning.”  
  
“Albus, you’re exhausted. You need to rest.”  
  
“This is too important. I must go. But I wanted you to know that you’ll be perfectly safe. Between Severus and other members of the Order, you’ll be well looked after.”  
  
“Oh, for heaven’s sake! I appreciate the concern, Albus, but I’m not a toddler. I don’t need baby-sitters.”  
  
Albus smiled and patted her hand. “Keep working on the lessons Severus and I have been teaching you.”  
  
“Yes, Dad,” said Lin with a laugh. She exited to find Farrette still clinging to the banister with one hand. He held a small sandwich-half in the other hand and was slowly nibbling on it. “Are you feeling any better, Dee? I’m Lin, by the way.”  
  
“Yes, thank you, Lin.”  
  
Lindsay picked up Farrette’s briefcase and took his arm. She chattered to him as she walked him down the stairs and into the sitting room. “You’re blood sugar is too low; that’s why you feel weak and queasy. You’ll need to eat more than that little sandwich. Have a seat in this chair, and I’ll fix a plate for you.”  
  
“You don’t have to go to any trouble,” said Farrette.  
  
“No trouble at all,” replied Lin as she quickly disappeared into the dining room.  
  
“Feeling ill, Dee?” said Arthur.  
  
“Yes, I skipped dinner and now I’m paying for it.”  
  
“It’s impossible to skip a meal with my Molly around,” said Arthur.  
  
“Molly’s a fine woman, Arthur, and I’d love to chat more about your domestic bliss, but Albus is ready to see you and Alastor.”  
  
“I’ll have to go and fetch him…ah, there you are, Alastor. Perfect timing as always. Albus has just called for us.”  
  
“Find that army of Death Eaters, Moody?” said Sirius, now seated on the sofa with the twins. Remus rolled his eyes, but said nothing.  
  
Moody started toward Sirius, but was caught by Arthur. “Now’s not the time,” said Arthur as he steered Moody to the stairs. “We mustn’t keep Albus waiting.”  
  
With his two companions gone, Remus saw no point in hovering and plopped into the nearest chair. He was fast asleep within seconds. Arthur had been gone only a moment when Fred and George rounded on Farrette. Fred grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously. “I’m Fred Weasley, Mr. Fart. Nice to meet you, sir.”  
  
Fred released Farrette’s hand and George took it. “George Weasley, Mr. Fart. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir.”  
  
“It’s Farrette, gentlemen.”  
  
“Yes, Fart, that’s what we said,” replied George with an innocent, almost angelic expression.  
  
“It’s _F-a-r-r…e-t-t-e,_ ” said Dee, slowly sounding out his name.  
  
“ _F-a-r-r…a-r-t,_ ” replied Fred with genuine-appearing effort.  
  
“No, no, not fart; it’s Farrette!”  
  
“Oh, it’s Ferret,” declared George proudly. “He’s saying Ferret, Fred.”  
  
“It sounds the same to me, George.”  
  
“It’s subtle, you see,” replied George. “It’s a subtle difference.”  
  
“Oh, dear Merlin! Just call me, Dee!”  
  
Lindsay hurried in with a plate piled with food and a large mug of ale. “Let Dee eat in peace. He’s not feeling well.” Fred and George plopped back onto the couch next to Sirius, who gave them a thumb-up for trying to lighten the mood. Farrette had only a bit of ale left in his mug when Arthur entered the room to collect the twins. Arthur tapped Remus’ shoulder to tell him that Albus wanted to see him next. The three Weasleys said their goodbyes and left. Farrette downed the remainder of his ale, thanked Lin for her hospitality, and left. Mad-Eye Moody was already gone.


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just a reminder: This entire story is a draft, so please judge it accordingly. (:

Sirius watched Remus rub his bleary eyes and rise to stagger out of the room. “Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.”  
  
“I’ll tell Albus you’re here,” hollered Remus from the hallway.  
  
“Thank you, Remus,” replied Sirius. “This is the dreariest party I’ve ever been to.”  
  
“Sorry about that,” said Lin as she sat next to him.  
  
“Are you still angry with me?”  
  
“No,” replied Lin. “I don’t hold grudges, and I know you mean well.”  
  
“I also know Snivellus alot better than you do.”  
  
“You just don’t know when to let a subject rest, do you? And please don’t call him by that name; it’s insulting.”  
  
“That’s the point,” said Sirius.  
  
“Just what do you have against Professor Snape?”  
  
“Well, for starters; he’s greasy, weird, unsociable, creepy, ill tempered, biased, cruel, spiteful, and did I mention weird?”  
  
“Whatever passed between the two of you has nothing to do with me.”  
  
“You don’t understand,” said Sirius, his tone more somber. “Snape is so deep in the enemy camp that just associating with him is putting you in terrible danger.”  
  
“Albus seems to think otherwise.”  
  
“Ugh,” grunted Sirius. “Albus and his trusting ways. The man’s not infallible, you know?”  
  
“I trust Albus’ judgement.”  
  
“Of course you do,” said Sirius. “You don’t have a choice.”  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
“You’re new to the magical world, Lin, and there’s so much you don’t know.”  
  
#  
  
Albus was seated at the desk when Remus entered the study. Stacks of papers were shuffling themselves and standing on end for easier reading. Albus watched the stack of papers with unfocussed eyes. A quill was scratching furiously on a small roll of parchment that lay open on the desk. Albus lifted his eyes and blinked, and the commotion stopped. The quill returned to its inkwell and the stacks of paper settled neatly on the desk.  
  
“Good of you to come, Remus. Sorry for the wait.”  
  
“No bother, Albus. What can I do for you?”  
  
“I need you to investigate the people on this scroll; it contains a list of werewolves who were known followers of Voldemort before his death. I need you to cross-reference their names with the names of the deceased persons on the list. Each of the deceased persons are known to have been in the vicinity of at least one werewolf prior to their deaths.”  
  
Remus looked bemused as he lifted the parchment and scanned it. “Alright, Albus, but what am I looking for?”  
  
“You must ascertain which of the deceased were killed by Voldemort’s own hand, and if they were carrying any personal items that Voldemort may have taken, and where those items might now be located.”  
“This is a strange task, Albus.”  
  
“I know it seems odd, but it is of utmost importance. I’m afraid I can’t explain why just yet.” Remus nodded, neatly folded the parchment, and placed it in his pocket. As a Defense Against the Dark Arts scholar, Remus already had a good idea of what Albus was looking for, but chose not to voice his thoughts until a more appropriate opportunity presented itself. “Learn what you can, Remus, but under no circumstances are you to risk your cover.”  
  
“I’ll do my best, Albus.”  
  
“You always do.”  
  
“There is something else I’d like to discuss with you, Albus.”  
  
“Certainly.”  
  
“It’s about Lin. You’ve got to take her away from here, Albus. She’s becoming a liability.”  
  
“A liability? In what way?” said Albus, his eyes shimmered as they bored into Remus’.  
  
“She’s using Death Eater jargon. She’s referring to Voldemort as the Dark Lord.”  
  
“She must’ve picked it up from Severus.”  
  
“We can’t afford any weak links, Albus.”  
  
“I thought you were fond of Lin.”  
  
“I am fond of her. That’s why I want her to go…before it’s too late.”  
  
“She’s much too valuable to send away.”  
  
“Valuable to whom?”  
  
“That’s a discussion for another day. As for her safety, Severus is looking after her—”  
  
“Severus?” barked Remus. “Just how thinly do you think you can spread him, Albus?”  
  
“It must be Severus.” Albus’ tone was as even and pleasant as usual, but Remus could feel a sudden energy in the air; it practically crackled. Although Remus didn’t fear Albus or his temper, he did respect the elder wizard and understood that Albus was an aging, and very tired, man.  
  
“What happened to her, Albus?” said Remus in a calmer, less severe tone of voice.  
  
“I beg your pardon?”  
  
“You know what I’m asking. Lin’s defensive of Severus, and you’re being very secretive. I’ve known Severus since we were children. Granted I was never a close friend of his, but I do know him about as well as anyone; and I’ve never known him to be so friendly with someone since he was a schoolboy.”  
  
“I have asked Severus to look after Lin.”  
  
“Severus does what he’s asked in the coldest most efficient manner possible. He doesn’t make friends with his charges. There’s a reason why he’s being nice to Lin. Something happened to her, what was it?”  
  
Albus removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes. “You’re a very perceptive young man, Remus. But I made a promise to Lin that I will not break. You will have to accept the current arrangement until Lin, herself, chooses to confide in you.”  
  
“Alright, Albus, I would never ask you to break a promise, but I must insist that you hide Lin. I’m sure there’s someplace you can hide her where she can still perform whatever task it is you require of her.”  
  
“I shall consider it, Remus.”  
  
“Thank you,” said Remus as he headed for the door. “Oh, um, Sirius is here. He wants to talk to you.”  
  
“Two at the request of one,” said Albus with a grin.  
  
Remus shrugged, “Sorry.”  
  
“Send him up.”  
  
#  
  
“What can I do for you, Sirius?” said Albus pleasantly as Sirius practically flung open the study door; not in temper, but in impetuous zeal.  
  
“I’ll get right to it, Albus.”  
  
“I’d be grateful if you did. It’s quite late.”  
  
Sirius strode to the desk and leaned down, placing both hands on it. “What were you thinking having an Order meeting at a muggle house?”  
  
“We’ve had meetings in muggle homes before,” replied Albus.  
  
“Yes, but the muggles weren’t home at the time.”  
  
“Lin is not a muggle.”  
  
“But she thinks like one.”  
  
“You do her an injustice, Sirius.”  
  
“I’m trying to protect her, something you don’t seem very concerned about.”  
  
“She is well guarded,” replied Albus.  
  
Sirius stood upright and began to pace. “Just what do you want with her, Albus? What use could an unskilled near-muggle possibly be to you?”  
  
“I have my reasons, Sirius, and it would be best that you don’t know them.”  
  
Sirius stopped his pacing and glared at Albus. “Best for whom? Best for me or for yourself?” He approached the desk again. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear there was something illicit going on.” Albus said nothing; his demeanor and expression didn’t change, but the air in the room became electrified in an instant. Sirius felt it and knew he’d gone too far. He didn’t fear harm from Albus, who would never take liberties with a weaker wizard, but respect for Albus’ age and authority made him regret his impulsive comment. “I apologize, Albus. That was a step too far.”  
  
“Indeed, it was…and I accept your apology.”  
  
“Thank you,” said a cooler Sirius, but it wasn’t in his nature to let an unresolved topic rest in peace. “I’m just concerned, for Lin and our mission.”  
  
“You must trust me, Sirius.”  
  
“I do trust you, Albus. I’d die for you. It’s…it’s just that I worry sometimes that the stress is too much for you.”  
  
“You worry that I’ll make mistakes,” said Albus with all the bearing of someone who was searching himself for something elusive. “I admit that I’m not infallible. But this time, I assure you that I’m doing the right thing.”  
  
“She said ‘the Dark Lord’ tonight,” said Sirius abruptly.  
  
“I beg your pardon?” said Albus, who convincingly appeared to not know what Sirius was referring to.  
  
“Lin called Voldemort, the Dark Lord. She’s using Death Eater jargon, Albus.”  
  
“She likely picked it up from Severus,” replied Albus in a tone of voice that clearly showed his total lack of concern about the matter.  
  
“Well, of course she did,” said Sirius in exasperation. “What else will she pick up from him? She didn’t even understand how dangerous it was to say what she said around us.”  
  
“Severus says the phrase amongst members of the Order quite frequently, and it’s never caused anyone undue anxiety.”  
  
“He’s a Death Eater, Albus. It’s normal for him to talk like that.”  
  
“Was,” countered Albus. “Severus _was_ a Death Eater.”  
  
“We have enough obligations without worrying about a near-muggle stumbling around things she doesn’t understand.”  
  
“I do wish you’d get to the point, Sirius.”  
  
“You need to hide her, Albus. She’s a danger to herself and the cause. Hide her before she gets herself or someone else killed.”  
  
“I shall take your advice under consideration.”  
  
“How very bureaucratic of you,” said Sirius.  
  
“You tell me that you’re worried I might make mistakes, and then you expect me to make a life-altering decision for someone else without taking time to consider the consequences to that person. I refuse to make such a judgement in haste.”  
  
“You’re right, Albus,” conceded Sirius. “I’m sorry— _again_.”  
  
Albus smiled benevolently. “You’re worried, I understand. And you’re an impulsive man. I am the former, but not the latter. I shall do what I think is best. Now let this be an end to the discussion.” Sirius relented and the two men shook hands before Sirius departed.  
  
#  
  
Lin rose a bit later than usual the following morning because she’d retired at such a late hour. She shuffled past the library still half asleep, and noticed that the library door was open. She stopped, rubbed her eyes, and blinked a couple of times. What she saw brought her instantly to full wakefulness. There were several rows of holographic grids stacked three deep moving slowly around a central figure. Each grid was roughly the size of a chessboard. There were stacks of alchemical formulae, dissertations in languages that Lin had never seen before, theorems and diagrams that she didn’t understand, and lists of names each displaying the named person’s particular talent and occupation. But the majority of the grids showed moving images: city blocks, country homes and villages, and some had figures of people that would perform a set of movements, only to stop and begin again with a slight change in their activities.  
  
As Lin focused on the grid nearest to her, she recognized one of the small figures as herself, but she didn’t recognize the rural setting her tiny twin was in. Another figure appeared in the grid; it looked like Remus. Other figures with white masks appeared and a duel began. A tiny white moon appeared in the grid’s darkened sky and Remus’ doppelganger began to change. The werewolf transformation hadn’t completed when the scene changed.  
  
Miniature Lin now found herself in a facsimile of her garden. Again figures with white masks appeared; this time they were met by Professor Snape. Another duel ensued and Snape won, but the scene changed leaving Snape as the lone figure on the grid. A second figure appeared, but the background scenery remained vague. The new figure was Lord Voldemort. As Voldemort raised his wand and pointed it at tiny Snape, the scene changed again. The scenes continued to change and did so with increasing rapidity making it difficult to follow the activity. Suddenly, without warning, all of the grids disappeared.  
  
“Forgive me, Lin, I was preoccupied and didn’t realize you were there,” said Albus. “It’s a lovely morning, crisp and cool with a clear blue sky. I trust you slept well?”  
  
“You’re able to keep all of that straight in your mind at one time?” said Lin as she entered the Library, ignoring Albus’ feeble attempt to distract her.  
  
“I should know better than to attempt to sidetrack you with small talk. I think we both know that I didn’t put much effort into it. But to answer your question: yes, I can. With your impressive memory, I’m sure you’ll make sense of it all in time.”  
  
“If I’m impressive, what does that make you?”  
  
“I am an oddity, my dear, nothing more.”  
  
“I was thinking ‘special’ might be a better descriptor.”  
  
Albus laughed. “You’re one of the most optimistic people I’ve ever known.”  
  
“I do try, Albus,” replied Lin mischievously. “But I am a little concerned about what I saw. You were working out things that you think will happen, weren’t you?”  
  
“They were just exercises in probability,” replied Albus nonchalantly.  
  
“I can see that something is troubling you, Albus. What’s wrong?”  
  
“There’s been a change of plans, Lin.”  
  
“You’re not leaving?”  
  
“Oh, I’m still leaving…and so are you.”  
  
“What?” blurted Lin. “If you wanted a travel companion, all you had to do was ask. I’m amenable to requests, Albus, but I don’t appreciate having demands made of me.”  
  
“There’s so much you don’t know, Lin,” said Albus softly, an unmistakable expression of sadness and self-reproach passed over his careworn features.  
  
Lin sighed, “I’ve heard that so many times since entering you’re bizarre magical world. It’s getting tiresome.” She fell silent for a second and studied Albus’ face. His expression hadn’t changed, and he was meeting her eyes only fleetingly. “Oh, I see,” said Lin quietly. “You’ve been trying to find a way to keep me alive without having to tell me what’s going on.”  
  
“You’re very clever, Lin.” Albus sighed deeply as if steeling himself before continuing. “I didn’t want to disturb your sense of security or familiarity. I thought if I assigned a bodyguard or two to you that you’d be safe in familiar surroundings. I thought Remus to be a good choice; he’s intelligent and a very capable duelist, but his infirmity is such a great impediment. Sirius is also a capable duelist, but he’s reckless and courageous to a fault. Severus seemed the best choice; his dueling skills are impressive—and I don’t compliment him lightly—and he is a very clever man. But his continued association with you is putting him in too much danger. I’ve received intelligence that makes the current situation impossible to maintain, and I’ve tried every scenario I can think of, Lin. You can’t continue like this. Changes must be made.”  
  
“It’s because of what I said last night, isn’t it? They don’t trust me anymore.” She began to pace in an attempt to relieve her growing agitation. “I’ve been Death Eater property for months and no one’s batted an eye. I blurt out ‘the Dark Lord’ and suddenly everyone’s in a panic.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Lin. I knew this day would come. I just didn’t think it would arrive so soon.”  
  
“You _knew_?” said Lin in disbelief.  
  
“I know this is difficult—”  
  
“No,” said Lin resolutely. “I won’t do it. I’m not leaving my home.”  
  
“I thought you might argue,” said Albus as he sat in the nearest armchair, a big grin on his face. “You’re very much a people-pleaser, Lin, but you always show a great deal of fortitude at just the right moment. You’ve no idea how much I’m counting on that attribute.”  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
“I’ll explain later. For now, I’ll take no argument,” said Albus firmly. “We’ll have breakfast, then you’ll pack, and we _will _leave.” Albus’ voice was stern though his expression and bearing were as benevolent as ever.__


	54. Chapter 54

Fred and George had just finished sorting and packing a large number of orders for their joke shop. They were tired and decided to go to the Leaky Cauldron for an early lunch. George was oddly quiet and seemed distracted. Fred was a little concerned about his brother’s somewhat sour mood.  
  
“What’s up with you, George? You’ve been preoccupied all day.”  
  
“I’ve sent five letters to Lin, and she hasn’t answered.”  
  
“She hasn’t answered mine either.”  
  
“It’s not like her, Fred. I think the Greasy Git did something to her.”  
  
“She does seem to have a strange connection with him that I can’t sort out.”  
  
“I think we should pay her a visit after lunch,” said George as he stabbed at his plate.  
  
“I don’t know, George. She could be entertaining a gentleman and might not appreciate us barging in on her.”  
  
“I doubt she’d bring a date home with the Git lurking about.”  
  
“Yes, I imagine the Dungeon Bat could easily kill a romantic mood. Alright, after lunch then,” replied Fred.  
  
The twins apparated to Lin’s patio thinking she’d likely be in the pool or walking in the garden as she often did both. They didn’t find her so they went inside to her art studio, which was the next likely place for her to be. They had no idea that they’d triggered Snape’s wards. They’d just popped their heads into Lin’s studio when they heard a familiar low silky voice behind them.  
  
“Do you two often enter a home uninvited?”  
  
Fred and George turned quickly to face Snape. His wand wasn’t drawn, but his arms were folded and his wand hand lay perilously close to his sleeve.  
  
“Lin’s our friend,” started George.  
  
“We have an open invitation,” finished Fred.  
  
“That invitation only applies when Miss Gray is home.”  
  
“Where is she?” said George.  
  
“I don’t know,” replied Snape.  
  
“And you wouldn’t tell us if you did,” said Fred.  
  
“You both should be more alert given the current political climate,” said Snape, ignoring Fred’s comment. “Anyone could’ve taken you by surprise.”  
  
“What exactly are you doing here?” said George as he took a step closer to his former Potions master. Snape grinned, turned on his heel and stalked away. Fred and George exchanged angry glances before following after, but couldn’t find him.  
  
“Bloody hell, he’s fast,” said Fred.  
  
“He must be in the cellar,” said George as he reached for the knob on the cellar door. Fred caught his arm.  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
“He’s down there, and I want to talk to him.” George yanked his arm away and bolted down the cellar steps.  
  
“He’s not going to tell us anything,” said Fred as he followed after his brother.  
  
The twins searched the cellar and didn’t find Snape. They ended up standing in the study looking at the door to the courtyard. The study seemed eerily quiet as though it’d been unoccupied for some time. The twins knew that wasn’t the case and rationalized the unease of the room to Snape’s lingering aura. The fireplace wasn’t lit and hadn’t been for quite some time, but Snape was well known to be virtually impervious to the cold and damp.  
  
“If I were a Greasy Git, I’d find this room quite cozy. How ‘bout you, George?”  
  
“Cozy indeed, Fred, and I find that rather disturbing.”  
  
George pointed to the outside door and Fred nodded as he leveled his wand to cover his brother. George slowly opened the door to reveal a plain stone courtyard with an oddly long and narrow shape.  
  
“I don’t see anything,” whispered Fred so softly that he was barely audible. George didn’t need to hear him; he could read his brother’s lips and body language. George quickly popped his head out the door and drew back inside, pressing his body against the study wall.  
  
“Nothing there, Fred.”  
  
The twins walked outside with their wands still drawn and inspected the courtyard carefully.  
  
“I didn’t see this from the garden, did you?”  
  
“No,” replied George. “It’s not a very cheerful space, is it? Not Lin’s taste at all.”  
  
“It looks like a dueling arena,” replied Fred. “Lin’s obviously not here. Maybe she went on holiday.”  
  
“Without telling us?”  
  
“She does have a life of her own, you know.”  
  
“She never stops talking, Fred. She tells everyone everything.”  
  
“You make an excellent point, George. Let’s check for her car. She might’ve gone for a drive.”  
  
Fred and George proceeded to the garage, and George tugged on the door. “Locked.”  
  
Fred aimed his wand and said, “Alohomora.” George pulled on the garage door again and lifted it open. Lindsay’s car and motorbike were still parked inside, and both had cold engines.  
  
“This is worrisome, Fred. I think the Git’s done something to her.” When Fred didn’t answer, George turned to see his twin looking like he was on the verge of an angry fit.  
  
“I think I know what’s happened here, George, and we need to sort it out.”  
  
#  
  
The twins apparated to 12 Grimmauld Place and crept silently past the sleeping portrait of Walburga Black. Most people were eating lunch at this time of the day so the twins surmised that they’d find Remus and Sirius in the kitchen.  
  
Sirius was seated in his usual place; he leaned back in his chair, balancing it on its two rear legs. He was drumming his fingers on the table, impatiently waiting for Remus to finish reading an academic article. Remus was accustomed to Sirius’ many noisy irritations and had developed the ability to ignore his friend completely. Sirius’ chair slammed onto its forelegs as Fred and George burst into the room. Both Remus and Sirius had immediately risen and drawn their wands.  
  
“What the hell’s the matter with you two?” said Sirius.  
  
“Where is she?” shouted Fred.  
  
“Where’s who?” said Sirius, the anger in his voice matched the rage in Fred’s.  
  
“What did you do to Lin?” yelled George. “We’re not leaving here until we know!”  
  
“We haven’t done anything!” said Sirius.  
  
“Please,” began Remus, “just sit down and we can discuss this rationally.”  
  
“Tell us where she is!” demanded Fred.  
  
“We didn’t even know she was missing!” said Sirius.  
  
“I don’t believe you!” said the twins in unison.  
  
“We’re not lying to you,” said Remus. “Please, just sit and we’ll talk about it.”  
  
George, slightly less hot-headed than his twin, laid his hand on Fred’s shoulder and gestured toward a chair. The twins sat stiffly, followed by the two men.  
  
“Please explain what’s going on,” said Remus.  
  
“Lin hasn’t been responding to our letters,” said George.  
  
“So we went to see her,” said Fred, “and she wasn’t home.”  
  
“That’s it?” said Sirius. “You’re freaking out because Lin wasn’t home?”  
  
“She always answers us,” insisted George. “I’ve sent five letters, and Fred’s sent three.”  
  
“And her art things are gone,” said Fred.  
  
“Her art things?” repeated Remus.  
  
“Her painting things,” said Fred, “they’re gone—not all of them, but a lot of them.”  
  
“Anything else missing?” said Sirius.  
  
“We didn’t exactly count her knickers,” said George.  
  
“She’s probably gone away on a little holiday,” said Remus.  
  
“Stop messing about,” said Fred sharply. “We heard what Lin said at the Order meeting, and we know you did something.”  
  
“We told Dumbledore,” said Sirius. Remus sighed and rolled his eyes.  
  
“What the hell did you do that for?” yelled George.  
  
“It was for her own good,” replied Sirius.  
  
“You must understand,” began Remus gently, “that using Death Eater jargon is dangerous for Lin and for members of the Order.”  
  
“She made a mistake!” shouted Fred. “You didn’t have to go to Dumbledore over it!”  
  
“We were trying to protect her, you little prat!”  
  
“That wasn’t helpful, Sirius.”  
  
“Don’t patronize me, Remus.”  
  
“Don’t patronize us either,” said Fred. “We’re not fools.”  
  
“How could you turn on her over something so small?” pleaded George.  
  
Sirius slapped the table with the flat of his hand to relieve some of his temper. “You weren’t around for the first war—”  
  
“Here we go, George,” said Fred as he sat back and folded his arms across his chest, “another history lesson.”  
  
“You cheeky berks have no idea what Voldemort is capable of!” continued Sirius. “Entire families were torn apart by that maniac! Parents turned on their children, lovers killed each other! It was madness!”  
  
“So is betraying your friend!” said George.  
  
“We didn’t betray her! Talk to them, Remus. Maybe you can get through to them.”  
  
“Voldemort’s power is growing by the day,” began Remus. “He’s subversive, manipulative, and cunning. What Lin said might seem a small thing, but others have been tortured and killed over much less. We told Dumbledore to protect, not to harm her. Lin’s lack of magical training and her position in Dumbledore’s circle make her a target that Voldemort could use for information gathering.”  
  
“What about Snape?” said George. “He’s closer to You-Know-Who than anyone. He’s more of a danger than Lin could ever be.”  
  
“At least we agree on something,” said Sirius.  
  
“Dumbledore trusts Professor Snape,” said Remus firmly, “and that trust should be good enough for all of us. If he saw fit to segregate Lin from the rest of us, then that should be good enough too.”  
  
“Lin would never betray us,” said Fred.  
  
“One of our best friends turned on us during the first war,” said Sirius. “We know a thing or two about betrayal. If I’m not mistaken, your own brother has turned his back on you.”  
  
“Percy’s a prat,” said George, “but he’ll come ‘round.”  
  
“The Ministry is a quagmire full of Voldemort supporters,” said Remus. “It’s a breeding ground for power-hungry malcontents.”  
  
“Percy is not, and never will be, a follower of You-Know-Who,” said Fred. “He’s a Weasley.” With that, the twins stood and left the room.  
  
“Hmm, discussion over,” said Sirius. He looked over to Remus, who was already paging through his academic journal looking for something to read. Several silent moments passed before Remus spoke.  
  
“You’re much too quiet, Sirius. What is it?”  
  
“You defended Snivellus again.”  
  
“No, I defended Albus’ judgement.”  
  
“I’m loyal to Albus too, but even loyalty can be taken too far.”  
  
Remus’ jaw set in temper, his tone became sharp. “Albus helped me when no one else would.”  
  
“He helped me too, and countless others. But Albus is too trusting, you know that. He needs intelligent rational people around to give him perspective, not a rabble of mindless sycophants worshipping at his feet.” Remus closed his journal and rose quickly without saying a word. “Ugh, not the silent treatment.”  
  
Remus turned to Sirius when he reached the kitchen door. “I am not a mindless sycophant. My loyalty was hard-won, and Albus has never let me down. Albus needs reliable helpmates, not underlings who question his every decision.” Remus turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him.  
  
“Well, I mucked that up.”  
  
#  
  
Fred and George stopped on their way out before reaching Walburga’s sleeping portrait.  
  
“Should we go to Dumbledore, Fred?”  
  
“You know he won’t tell us anything.” Fred wrapped his arm around George’s shoulders. “Cheer up, Georgie. Lin couldn’t possibly be safer. We’ll see her again, after this mess is over with.”  
  
“Where to now?”  
  
“Shall we visit Mum?”  
  
“Let’s get her some flowers for her garden first.”  
  
“Yeah, those pink ones she’s been wanting.”


	55. Chapter 55

Snape apparated more than a block away from the building he was looking for. He deliberately walked in the wrong direction and cautiously observed his surroundings. He was wearing Muggle clothes: dark-blue jeans, dark-brown boots, a dark-gray hoodie, and an old navy-blue pea coat. The hood was pulled over his head obscuring his face. When he felt comfortable that he hadn’t been followed, he circled around and proceeded to Lindsay’s flat. She lived on the third floor of a nicely kept but average-looking Muggle building. The people across the hall from her were arguing loudly.  
  
Loud music was coming from Lindsay’s flat and Snape, suspecting danger, drew his wand. He tested the door, which was locked and looked up and down the hallway before opening it. He entered cautiously to see Lindsay with her back to him, washing dishes. Her hair was down and a little damp. She wore only a white silk dressing gown that fell just below mid-thigh. He could just make out the silhouette of her pale skin through the thin fabric. Parts of the dressing gown were see-through where her damp hair had dripped water on it and the wet silk clung to her body. He could smell the soft scent of the gardenia perfume he’d given her. A radio sat on the counter next to her. She yelled and jumped when she saw his hand reach from behind her to turn down the volume.  
  
“You scared the hell out of me! But I’m glad to see you anyway.” She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. His arms remained stiffly at his sides. “It seems odd to see you in Muggle clothes,” she said as she pulled the hood away from his face. “Nice choice though—very nondescript. Tea?” He nodded curtly. “Nobody visits except Albus, and I haven’t seen him in almost a month.”  
  
“The Headmaster is traveling.”  
  
“Oh, I understand. Communication is dangerous.”  
  
“So is deafening yourself with loud music, and not watching your entryways. Anyone could have come in as easily as I did. Are you trying to draw attention to yourself?”  
  
“No, I’m trying to drown-out my neighbors. I promise I’ll be more careful, but only if you promise to stay for a bit. I really need some company. I’m going crazy here by myself.”  
  
“Are you certain that no one knows of this place?” Snape turned and looked around the room before stiffly sitting down on her couch. Lindsay set about making his tea.  
  
“Not anyone from the order except for Albus and obviously you. As for my Muggle friends, they all know I moved into Mr. Roberts’ old place. I hate this apartment. I don’t know why I kept it. It was one of Adam’s. He had several; some were more upscale than others depending on the quality of company he wanted to entertain. His mother sold all but this one. It was convenient while I was in college. In fact, you can see the school if you look out that window—”  
  
“Stay away from the windows,” said Snape.  
  
“Those noisy neighbors weren’t here then,” said Lindsay as she placed Snape’s tea on the coffee table in front of him. He sat motionless with his back stiff and his hands gripping his knees. She sat next to him, facing him, and pulled her dressing gown together over her chest where it had tried to gape. “I’m bored out of my mind. All I do is pace and eat. Something wrong, Professor, you look tense?”  
  
Without warning Snape lurched forward and kissed her roughly on the lips. The force moved her back a little, which Snape misinterpreted as Lindsay moving away from him. He looked embarrassed and angry as he bolted up from the couch. Lindsay was sitting closer to the door and was able to head him off. “No…no…no, don’t shut down on me! You surprised me. That doesn’t mean I didn’t like it.” She tucked behind his ears the curtain of hair that was shielding his face. “Look at me. You know I’m telling you the truth. You startled me; that’s all. Please…just give me another chance.”  
  
She rested her hands on his shoulders as she leaned in to gently kiss him. He was trembling. He desperately wanted to touch her, but was afraid that he would do that wrong too. His arms were at his sides, and his hands tightly gripped the sides of coat. “That was nice,” whispered Lindsay as she placed his hands on her hips. Her body felt firm and warm under the light silky fabric. She rested her forehead against his and softly said, “I like you. I do.” His eyes wandered away from her toward the open doorway that led to her bedroom. She took his hand and led him in.  
  
He wanted to throw her onto the bed and have at her, but restrained himself. The guilt produced by their first encounter nagged at the back of his mind. He was determined to make this pleasant for both of them, partly to assuage his guilt and partly to relieve his lust. He wasn’t sure what to do next, so he did nothing.  
  
He watched her loosen her dressing gown, and let it slide onto the floor in elegantly cascading folds. His wide eyes traveled swiftly from her face down to her firm round breasts, each one a little more than his large long-fingered hands could hold. His eyes darted down to her flat white belly with its faint outline of muscle. His eyes traveled farther still to a small sparse tuft of dark-red hair. What he saw below that gave him goosebumps and made him swallow hard. He’d never seen that part of a woman before except in the pornographic pictures his father had tormented him with as a child. What he was seeing now looked very different from the photos that sickened him as a boy. Lin’s pale-pink skin was shapely and beautiful and begged him for exploration. He felt a jolt of excitement rush through his body and a desperate urgency accompanied it.  
  
Lin had barely moved onto the bed and he was on top of her. His pea coat and hoodie lay in a tangled heap on the floor. His hands were moving quickly up and down her body. He wanted to touch all of her at once. She cupped his face in her hands to still him long enough for her kiss him. He’d never kissed anyone before so he moved away from her rather than disappoint her with his lack of proficiency. He moved into a kneeling position and grabbed her legs to position them around him. She lay placidly with her legs widely parted, waiting for him. He was so excited that her tranquil yet purposeful invitation didn’t register in his mind. He thought he was guiding her.  
  
The thick fabric of his jeans held him firmly. A very uncomfortable pressure was building, and he struggled with trembling fingers to unfasten his belt. He thanked Merlin that he’d chosen a button fly over a zipper. Lin reached to help him, but he moved her hands away. He was frantic to get his trousers open, but had no intention of letting her see what was hidden within. He’d come too far to risk rejection.  
  
He lay over her, leaning on one elbow while his free hand was awkwardly trying to push his trousers down. In his excitement, he didn’t realize that Lin helped him. She placed her hands under his trouser waistband and gently ran her soft hands over the pale skin of his firm bottom while pushing his clothes out of the way.  
  
Despite his barely controlled excitement, Severus made a concerted effort to be tender. He wanted this to be like lovemaking, not a repeat of their former encounter. He entered her slowly and with much more care than the first time. The slow pace was frustrating and the sensation maddening. His thrusts were gentle and rhythmic. Lin as making noises, but Severus didn’t know if they were from pleasure or pain. His eyes glittered as they searched for hers, but Lin had closed them.  
  
“Look at me, Lin.”  
  
She opened her eyes and smiled. “You’re doing everything right, Severus.”  
  
Severus—it was oddly pleasant to hear her say his name. He rifled through her mind to find that he was indeed pleasing her. He’d read that women take much longer than men to climax; he’d make sure that didn’t happen by sheer force of will. He’d finished quickly during their first encounter, and she hadn’t finished at all. This time would be different. This time he was in control of himself, but it was getting more difficult to hold back with the sounds that Lin was making and the way she was moving under him. Her hands were travelling up and down his back; it was a pleasant sensation that he’d never felt before. He discovered that he was a little ticklish.  
  
Lin’s large blue eyes were beginning to appear emerald green to him, so he looked away. His eyes travelled down to her breasts, which was a mistake; their movement excited him too much and he felt himself getting very close to climax. It took all the self-control he possessed to stop thrusting.  
  
Lin’s hands stopped moving and her expression quickly changed to worry. “Are you okay?” Severus didn’t answer. He feared looking at any part of her. She moved his hair away from his face. “It’s okay if you need to stop. I don’t mind.”  
  
Severus shifted position from his elbows to his hands so he was hovering at arm’s length above her. He settled his breathing and began thrusting again. He avoided looking at her and stared at the wall in front of him. He wordlessly cast Muffliato so he heard buzzing in his ears instead of Lin moaning. He thought about collecting flobberworm mucus to make himself last longer, but the tactic didn’t work for long. The buzzing in ears quickly turned to Lily’s voice calling his name. His imagination morphed Lin’s long lean body that was firmly pushing against him into Lily’s shorter body. Instead of Lin’s long shapely legs, he felt Lily’s shorter stouter legs wrapped tightly around him. It was Lily’s small hands that he felt caressing him.  
  
He thrust harder and faster. He could feel himself getting close and feared that he’d look the fool if he came too soon. Lin’s body tensed under him and he relaxed, losing himself in the moment. His body shuddered, and Severus embarrassed himself by letting out a groan. He felt Lin’s body close around him and grip his manhood tightly in rhythmic pulses. He thought the first time felt good. This was bliss. His arms trembled, and he lowered himself against his will until he melted into Lin’s overheated body. As the ecstasy of the moment evaporated, reality forced its way into Severus’ mind and his vision of Lily disappeared. Tears welled in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.  
  
Lin was kissing his neck and shoulder. She ran one hand up and down his back, and the other caressed the long lank hair of his head. Severus pulled himself away from her and arranged his clothes as he rose from the bed, intent on leaving. She asked him to stay, which he hadn’t expected. He agreed and left the room to undress. He re-entered seconds later, covering himself with his bundle of clothes. She kept her hands over her eyes, as she said she would, and waited for him to climb into bed. She didn’t laugh or make fun of him; she just waited quietly. He wore only an old, fraying, sleeveless undershirt that had once been white, and was now a dingy grey and stretched beyond its natural proportions. He pulled it as low as he could before sliding into bed next to her. He turned on his side with his back to her.  
  
Lin moved to lie against him. She wrapped her arm around him and felt his body stiffen. She could tell that something was upsetting him, and she wasn’t sure if it was anything she’d said or done, or if it was just the pressure of his responsibilities. “Relax,” she whispered in his ear. She insisted on holding him. Severus tolerated it as he felt that cooperation would grant him continued access to her body. It was something he didn’t think he would like as it seemed that it would be very confining; but he found, to his great surprise, that it was relaxing and made sleep come more easily. Lindsay spoke to him and touched him in ways that Lily never had, but she wasn’t Lily. It was she who walked through his dreams at night, and it was Lily’s face that he saw as he drifted off to sleep.  
  
Severus knew what he’d done was selfish, and Lin would be deeply wounded when she discovered the truth about him. But he also knew that a woman as beautiful and charismatic as she could have her choice of men. She’d find someone else when this misery was over with, and she’d choose a better man than he. Severus knew he wouldn’t survive the coming war. He hoped to live just long enough to tip the scales in Potter’s favor. He knew death would take him to Lily, but he feared it just the same.  
  
It was weak of him to seek solace in another’s arms, but even he felt fragile sometimes. He hoped that someday Lin could find it in her heart to forgive him for using her. He hushed his nagging conscience by telling himself that he’d broken down the barrier that Adam had built inside her, and made her free to be intimate with a man without fear or reticence. It was cold comfort, but he could live with it.  
  
Severus left before dawn without rousing Lin. He returned that evening and stayed for breakfast the following morning. He saw her as often as he could, mostly to amuse himself, but she seemed cheered by his presence and that stirred a measure of pride him. Severus was far from affectionate with her, but she welcomed him because of his determined effort to be gentle. She was patient with his nervous clumsy fumbling, which bolstered his confidence enough to explore more of her body. He didn’t, however, afford her the same freedom. He kept as much of himself covered as he could, and refused to change or undress in front of her. Lin accepted his peculiarities in silent good humor.


	56. Chapter 56

Severus rolled onto his back. He could hear the water running in the washroom. Lin was showering. It was unusual for her to wake before him, and stranger still that she could rise from the bed without waking him. The bed was still warm where Lin had been sleeping. Severus was so comfortable that he didn’t want to move. He’d slept fitfully, but still didn’t feel rested. He just couldn’t get enough sleep these days.

The washroom door opened and Lin walked out with her hair wrapped in a towel; it was all she was wearing. Severus smiled to himself as he watched Lin pull on fresh clothes. She removed the towel and threw it in the clothes hamper. Her long hair looked so dark when it was wet that it appeared almost black and the weight of the water pulled it nearly straight. Severus drew his wand from underneath his pillow and dried Lin’s hair with a silent spell. He liked it long and wavy and visibly dark red.

“Thank you,” said Lin with a handsome white-toothed smile. She moved to his side of the bed and picked up his pile of clothes from the floor. “I’m going to do laundry.”

“Leave them; they’re fine.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call them fine, and it won’t take me long to wash them. Do you want me to make you some breakfast before I go?”

“Go?” repeated Severus. “Go where?”

“To the laundry room; I just told you.”

“You told me you wanted to wash clothes. You didn’t say anything about leaving.”

“I don’t have a washing machine, Severus.”

“You know cleaning spells.”

“They’re a temporary fix. Clothes still need soap and water occasionally.”

“You’re not leaving this flat.”

“It’s Tuesday morning, everyone’s at work.” She turned and put his clothes in the hamper. “Shouldn’t you be at work too?”

“Dumbledore cancelled morning classes for some impromptu Quidditch matches. I need to be back at Hogwarts by lunch.” He rose from the bed with a blanket wrapped around him. “I’m going to have a bath before I eat.” Lin extended her hand as he passed her. “What?”

“You’re still wearing your underwear.”

“Who else would be wearing my underclothes?”

“I need to wash them, Severus.”

“They’re fine.”

“You can’t get washed and put on the same the clothes.”

“Really? I’ve been doing it for years and haven’t encountered a problem until now.”

“Will you stop arguing and give me your dirty clothes?”

“They’re not dirty. I’ve only been wearing them for a few days.”

“Oh, Lord,” said Lin as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Please, just humor me. Go in the bathroom and hand me the underwear through the door. Will you do that, please?”

“No,” replied Severus and disappeared into the washroom, closing the door behind him. Lin knocked on the door. “I’m not giving you my underclothes,” said Severus from behind the door. Before Lin could knock again, he opened the door a crack so she could just see his face. “I don’t have anything else to wear.”

“Wait a sec.” Lin moved to her dresser and took out a pair of her panties, which she handed to him. “Wear this.”

Severus looked at her as if she’d sprung a second head. He dangled the black silk thong between his thumb and forefinger. “Where’s the rest of it?”

“You’re a wizard. Transfigure it.”

He handed Lin her panties and said, “I’m not wearing ladies undergarments. It’s too weird,” and promptly shut the door. Lin heard the water begin running in the bath. The water didn’t run very long, and Lin guessed that there couldn’t be more than an inch of water in the tub. She knocked on the door again.

“I’ve had enough of this nonsense, Severus. Give me your…” Her voice trailed off as the door opened again, just wide enough to allow Severus’ hand to pass through, and handed her a folded and wet pair of men’s underpants—‘Y’ fronts that were formerly white and now a dismal shade of grey. “Thank you. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” Of course, he didn’t answer as he’d shut the door as soon as she took the folded underpants.

Lin could hear water splashing. She walked toward the clothes hamper and stopped with a frown creasing her face. There was something odd about the underwear. Severus never folded his clothes; he rolled them in a ball and dropped them onto the floor. And why were his underpants wet? “Finite incantatem,” said Lin and the neatly folded pair of men’s briefs turned back into the washcloth that she had used while bathing. A moment later, Severus exited the bathroom with a blanket wrapped around his waist. His hair was wet and dripping onto his dingy threadbare undershirt. He sat on the bed and waved his hand. His clothes lifted out of the hamper and settled on the bed next to him. He pulled on a pair of faded blue jeans while keeping himself covered with the blanket.

“Did you really think you could fool me with a washcloth?”

“I wasn’t trying to fool you. I just wanted to occupy you long enough that I could wash in peace.”

“I don’t understand why you’re making such a fuss over washing your dirty underwear.”

“They’re not dirty. I just washed them.”

“What?”

Severus slipped on a pair of black and white tennis shoes that looked as though they’d been lifted from a trash bin. He stood and pulled on an old, dark-red, waffle-knit shirt. “I washed them while I was in the bath.”

“You wear your underwear in the bath?”

“Yes,” replied Severus as he lifted the hamper. “It saves a lot of time—two birds, one stone.”

“Who does that?” said Lin with wide eyes. She spoke more to herself than to him.

“I do that.”

“That’s so weird,” she continued, still a little shocked by what she’d been told.

Severus lifted the clothes hamper. “Do you want to get this laundry washed, or not?”

“Uh, yes…of course.” Severus followed Lin into the living area. She picked up her keys and a bag with the laundry soap she used that she kept in the kitchen.

“Grab me an apple, would you?”

With a single red apple and laundry accessories in hand, they made their way downstairs to the building’s communal laundry room. It was a dark drab room with bare cinderblock walls lined in outdated washing machines and driers. Each washer had a drier unit mounted directly above it. A single long table sat in the center of the room to facilitate laundry folding and sorting; underneath it were a couple of low step stools because the smaller women had difficulty reaching the driers. A single small window lit the room with natural light and beneath it sat a large, and mostly unused, utility sink. The rows of ceiling-lights rarely worked properly and the bulbs that did light usually flickered on and off, which was annoying enough by itself, but the hum that accompanied them was almost maddening.

Severus set the laundry down and took the apple that Lin handed to him. He leaned against the wall under the window to eat his apple. From this vantage point, he had a good view of both the entry and the people walking about outside as he could see their shadows on the opposite wall. He pulled his wand from his sleeve and dried his hair. He was shocked to see Lin pull out her own wand and use magic to both load the washers with soap and sort her clothes into different machines. She turned to him when she was finished and smiled. She walked toward him and he thought she was going to kiss him, but she lifted her hand and tugged gently at his hair, which was somewhat less oily than usual.

“You have soap in your hair.”

“It’ll work its way out.”

“There’s a sink right there. Lean over it, and I’ll rinse out the—”

“I am not putting my head in that sink!” snapped Severus.

Lin was a little taken aback by the sudden show of temper. “It’ll only take a minute.”

Severus pulled his wand from his sleeve and pointed it at his hair. “Tergeo.” The soap disappeared instantly from his hair, but the spell did little else. He must’ve been using the spell for so many years that it was unable to remove all of the oily build-up he’d accumulated. “Happy?” Lin didn’t respond to him. She wasn’t at all happy with his unkempt ways, but his puzzling outburst told her there was a reason for his behavior so she decided to let the matter rest. In the few years that she’d known him, Lin learned that Severus was intensely secretive and didn’t take change well. Patience and gentle prodding was the best way to handle him.

They stood shoulder-to-shoulder in silence waiting for the wash to finish. Severus finished eating his apple and the core simply disappeared from his hand. He ran his sticky fingers under the faucet in the utility sink and dried his wet hand on the thigh of his jeans. Lin shocked him a second time by using her wand to dry and fold the clean laundry. Apparently Dumbledore was finally able to drum some sense into her. Severus snatched the hamper away from her and ushered her back to her flat where she made breakfast.

Lin sat next to Severus at her little round dining table. He faced the main living area, which gave him the best view of the room; and she sat with her back to the windows and facing the door. She was quietly watching him eat while picking at her own breakfast. He ate much faster these days than he had when she’d first met him. She suspected that he could rival Ron Weasley for the fastest meal consumption. But the times when he actually ate a full meal were getting fewer and fewer.

It was difficult to tell when he was wearing loose wizard robes, but the worrisome amount of weight Severus had lost was obvious when he wore closer-fitting Muggle clothes. She had only the most basic idea of his responsibilities beyond teaching, and she dared not ask him for details. Truly, it was none of her business and the sharing of such sensitive information would put him in terrible danger. If there were anything she could do to relieve some of his burden, she would gladly do it.

Lin reached out and moved Severus’ hair behind his ear and gently stroked his face with her fingertips. She softly said, “You’re beautiful,” and she meant it.

Severus sat rigidly upright in his chair and looked straight ahead with narrowed eyes. He clenched his jaw and tightly gripped the fork in his hand. He’d been teased and bullied his entire childhood and had no tolerance for teasing as an adult, no matter how good-natured its intent. He wanted to lash out at her, but feared losing access to her body.

Lin pulled her hand away, wondering what she’d done to anger him so. “I’m sorry, Severus. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

An apology was acceptable, although he felt that Lin should never have teased him in the first place. His posture relaxed, and he offered her a curt nod to show his acceptance of her apology. He set the fork down, reached his hand into the air to catch his hoodie, and rose to leave. It wasn’t his habit to kiss her goodbye, but he usually tolerated an affectionate farewell from her. He left too quickly to allow her any contact with him. He didn’t thank her for breakfast, or tell her if or when he’d be back.

“What the hell did I do this time?” said Lin to an empty room.

Severus didn’t return to Lin’s flat for another month-and-a-half. It was early June when he arrived on a Saturday evening, just after Hogwarts dinner schedule, looking exhausted. Lin was lying on her couch reading. Her coffee table was piled high with books that Albus had sent her by patronus a few days before. She rose when Severus entered, unsure whether to greet him as she normally did, or give him space. Severus liked to mull things over, but Lin preferred to get everything out in the open.

“Severus, about the last time you were here…”

Severus raised his hand and Lin stopped speaking. “Let it rest. I’m too tired.” He wandered into the bedroom dropping clothing as he went. He collapsed onto the bed wearing his underclothes and a partially unbuttoned dark-blue denim shirt. Lin followed after him. She took a blanket from the tiny linen closet and laid it over him.

“Do you want to talk about it, Severus?”

“You know I can’t.”

“I read about the attack on the school. The Muggle authorities think it’s somehow gang related. Fifteen children—”

“I’m tired, Lin. Just lie with me for a bit.”

Lin kicked off her shoes and crawled onto the bed to lie against Severus’ back. She wrapped and arm around him and he took hold of her hand, something he’d never done before. She could feel his body slowly relaxing. It took him more than an hour to fall asleep. His breathing slowed and his breaths became deep and even; the sound of it lulled Lin to sleep.

*

Severus turned to lie on his back. Light was flashing at his closed eyes; he opened them to see branches shuffling gently above him, moved by a light warm breeze. Sunshine cascaded down between the branches and warmed his face. Severus knew this place; he remembered it well. He and Lily came here often as children and played in the shade of the large old tree; the same tree that he knew to have been burned down by a lightning strike many years ago. Severus knew he was dreaming and didn’t care. This is the place that he longed to be, a time he wished he could relive.

The arm that now draped across his chest was shorter than Lin’s. The hand he held was smaller than Lin’s with shorter fingers. The warm soft body that lay against him was much shorter that Lin and, although lean, was curvier and rounder than Lin’s. Severus lifted his left arm to gently brush Lily’s hair away from her face. The moment his fingers touched her hair, a searing pain erupted in his forearm and a burning sensation radiated through his body jolting him awake. His sudden movement startled Lin, who sat upright at the same time he did.

“Another nightmare?”

“I’ve been summoned.”

“Who wants you this time?” said Lin as she ran to pick up his clothes. She glanced quickly at the clock mounted on the wall in the kitchen. It was three o’clock in the morning.

“Does it matter?” replied Severus. He sat on the end of the bed and quickly pulled on the faded blue jeans that Lin handed him.

“Albus will be more forgiving if you’re late.”

Severus sat up rigidly straight with his arms extended from his sides. “They’re both pulling and I fear one day they’ll split me in half.” Severus grinned maliciously. “Who do you think will win?”

“That’s not funny, Severus,” said Lin as she handed him his shoes.

“Isn’t it?”

“Stop it. You’re scaring me.”

“Good, you should be scared.” He rose and stalked out, buttoning his shirt as he went.

Lin was rattled. She wasn’t able to relax and didn’t attempt to go back to sleep. She couldn’t concentrate enough to read and spent the next few hours pacing her small flat. She feared that Severus was reaching a breaking point and considered contacting Albus, but Albus was part of the problem. Albus needed Severus, but he was also the only one who could really help him. It was Remus who Lin longed to speak to; he couldn’t personally help Severus because Severus hated him, but maybe he could advise Lin, give her some insight on how to deal with the situation. Severus returned a few hours later, just after six. He was shaking uncontrollably.

“My, God, what happened?” said Lin as she rushed to him.

“Cruciatus,” replied Severus dismissively. “It’s alright. I took a potion. The shaking will stop shortly.”

“Cruciatus?” Why?”

“It was a test, not a punishment. Nothing to worry about.”

“How can you call being hit with an ‘Unforgiveable’ nothing?” She was about to tell Severus that she couldn’t take anymore, but stopped herself. Severus was the one who had to suffer through it; he was the one risking his life. All she had to do was helplessly watch from the safety of her hovel of a flat.

Severus ignored her and walked straight to the bed, which he collapsed onto still fully clothed. Lin did as she’d done earlier and covered him with the same blanket. He was asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. Lin hovered over him for awhile, just watching him sleep. She realized just how unwell he was when her hovering didn’t rouse him as it normally would have done. She wanted to touch him, but knew him well enough to let him be.

She wanted to linger, but knew her presence would eventually disturb him. She retreated to the living room couch where she pretended to read between bouts of floor pacing. Severus emerged from the bedroom just before lunch. He stood barefoot in rumpled Muggle clothes.

“Are you hungry?” said Lin.

“No.”

“Would you take some tea, at least?”

“No, there’s something else I want.” Severus held up a small vial of potion that Lin was all too familiar with. She rose from the couch and dutifully swallowed the sweet concoction.

“Why did he Crucio you?” said Lin as she walked into the bedroom with Severus following behind her.

“The Dark Lord is drunk on power. He feels his end goal nearing, and he’s becoming more paranoid.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the best one I can give you,” replied Severus. He watched her undress, and gently pushed her blouse away from her shoulder as she unbuttoned it. His hand lingered on the soft white skin there. His fingers traced the bony protrusion of her collar, a more prominent projection of bone than Lily had.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” A curt nod and a black glittering stare were offered in answer.

Lin wasn’t in the mood for this, but Severus wanted it and she wished to please him. Severus removed as little clothing as possible. He still refused to let her see him. She lay placidly on the bed. His eyes followed the line of her body before slowly climbing into bed and onto her. There was no heat in this encounter, no passion. Severus’ movements were slow and caressing yet without affection. His body responded to hers, but his mind was elsewhere. He avoided looking at her face and spent an inordinate amount of time playing with her hair, smelling it and twisting it around his fingers. Lin’s fear for his safety grew immeasurably.

She sat up to watch him dress. Her hand caressed his back when he sat on the edge of the bed to put on his shoes. He didn’t respond to her touch and rose to walk toward the bedroom door; he stopped for a moment just before reaching it. He looked as if he was about to say something, but he just turned and left without meeting her eyes. Lin had the overwhelming feeling that she’d never see him again. The tears she’d been holding back for weeks refused to be held back any longer. She cried for hours.


	57. Chapter 57

#

Albus slipped on a pair of petal-pink cotton gloves. The pain in his right hand was excruciating, but he didn’t want Lin to see the state of it. She would invariably hug him, but he was certain he could magically shield his infirmity from her. Albus feared that the curse that was slowly taking his life might cause Lin irreparable harm if she attempted to heal him, and he had a far more important use for her peculiar gift.

It was late spring and Albus wore an ensemble that might be considered colorful by Muggle standards: olive-green trousers, lavender button-down shirt, burgundy shoes and belt, tan sport coat with a deep-pink pocket square, and a beige fedora with a silk, multi-colored, pastel band. His long white hair and beard were magically shortened in keeping with Muggle fashion.

He found Lin pacing her flat in a state of near hysteria. She was so preoccupied that she hadn’t seen him enter and was startled when she heard his voice. She did exactly what he predicted and ran over to hug him tightly.

“Oh, Albus, it’s been so long! I’m so happy to see you. You look tired. You’re not taking care of yourself are you?”

“I think you may be turning into Molly,” replied Albus mischievously.

“I can’t think of a better person to turn into,” replied Lin. “But where are my manners? Come sit on the couch, and I’ll fix you something. Do you want tea?”

“Just tea, dear, nothing else.”

“No cinnamon rolls or custard tarts? You love them.”

“This isn’t really a social call, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, I see,” replied Lin, her spirits clearly darkened. She placed her hands on the counter and used magic, her peculiar brand of magic, to make the tea quickly. She handed him a teacup, which he took with his left hand, and she sat the saucer on the coffee table in front of him. “Aren’t you right handed?”

“You’re very perceptive, aren’t you?” said Albus as he sat the teacup on its saucer.

“That’s not an answer.”  

“I’ve injured my hand—”

Lin reached her hand out. “May I take a look at it?”

Albus caught Lin’s hand with his left, “No, no, nothing to worry about, just an old man’s complaint. Severus is taking care of it.”

Lin nodded, looking much relieved. She had tremendous confidence in Severus’ abilities. “Since we’re on the subject, I need to talk to you about Severus.”

“You two have grown very fond of each other. Severus is not an easy man to get close to, and even more difficult to understand. You must be patient with him, Lin. Severus has had many trials in his life, many of which have left him deeply scarred.”

“I’m not angry with him, Albus. I’m worried. He’s under too much pressure, and I fear that he’s reached his breaking point.”

“Severus is strong and more resilient than he appears.”

“Everyone has a limit, Albus. Isn’t there anything you can do to lighten some of his burden?”

“I would if I could, but Severus placed his greatest burden on his own shoulders.”

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t tell you.” Lin sighed in agitation and rose to pace again. Albus knew she was holding her tongue out of respect for him, or more precisely—his age. This was as good a time as any to give her the sad news. It would prompt an eruption of temper from her, but she needed the emotional release. “But there is something else I must tell you.” Lin stopped her pacing to face him. “I’m sorry, Lin, but Sirius was killed…” Lin didn’t hear the rest. She stood stock-still, momentarily unable to move or speak. Her body felt suddenly cold. Albus rose to embrace her with his good arm, still careful to keep his withering cursed hand away from her.

Lin sobbed uncontrollably. This release of tension was just the tip of the iceberg for her, and Albus wanted her to be rid of as much anxiety as possible because he had a much bigger shock to deliver. After a few minutes, Lin settled enough to croak out a simple question.

“How?”

“In a duel with Death Eaters; his death was fast and painless. He didn’t suffer at all.”

“When?”

“June eighteenth.”

Lin stepped back and dried her eyes with the lavender handkerchief that Albus proffered. “That can’t be right, it’s only the tenth.” Her eyes widened as she realized what Albus was telling her. “Last year?” she shouted. “Sirius died a year ago, and you’re just telling me now?”

“You would’ve wanted to leave the safe-house, and I couldn’t allow that. You mustn’t contact anyone, Lin. You must remain hidden.”

“Dammit, Albus, I’ve had enough of this cloak-and-dagger bullshit! All I’ve heard since I met you is how fragile I am, and how little I understand! I can’t imagine how I’ve made it this far in life without you babysitting me!”

“I deserve that,” said Albus calmly.

“Stop being so pleasant!”

“I can’t. I deserve your anger, and your hate, and your ill will.”

“I don’t hate you, Albus, and I certainly don’t bear you any ill will. I’m just tired of being imprisoned. I’m tired of my life being turned upside down by a group of minders who think I’m incapable of blowing my own nose.” She took hold of his good hand and gently squeezed. “I could never hate you.” Lin was quiet for a few seconds and it was clear that she was struggling with something. Albus knew what was troubling her, but let her broach the subject in her own time. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

“Do you want to know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

Lin was momentarily dumbfounded. “How did you know? I wasn’t even sure.”

Albus smiled. “Let’s just say it’s one of the advantages of being me.” She placed his left hand on her belly. The mingled expression of joy, affection, and excitement on his face was almost indescribable. “Congratulations, Lin; I hope for the best for you and your son. But I must say that your timing is a bit inconvenient.”

“I don’t understand it. I took a contraceptive potion every time. Severus made them himself.”

“It would seem that you’re able to block more than just spells. Now, that is something I did not foresee.”

“But I took the potions, Albus. I didn’t have my defenses up. What am I going to tell Severus?”

Albus took her hand and led her to the couch. “You must’ve subconsciously blocked the action of the potion because a part of you wanted a child very badly. Your baby will give you back the family you’ve been missing for too long. Don’t waste time criticizing yourself, Lin. What we need to do now is devise a plan to keep you and your baby safe.”

“Should I tell Severus?”

“Absolutely not; he has far too much to worry about as it is.” Albus sipped at his tea and let Lin settle down a bit more and dab at her eyes with his handkerchief before he continued. “I know it’s a bit early, but have you chosen a name for the baby?”

“Niketas, after his father.” Albus appeared puzzled, and Lin smiled at him. “It’s a nickname I have for Severus that no one else knows. It’ll be a safe way to name him after his father…unless he looks like Severus, then it won’t matter what I’ve named him. He’ll have a bullseye right on his face.”

“You must stay positive, Lin; for yourself and for your baby.” Albus set down his teacup on the coffee table and rose. He offered his left arm to her as he spoke. “There’s something I must show you.” Lin rose without question and took his outstretched arm. Albus silently apparated them to Hogwarts, and Lin found herself standing outside Albus’ office. The great oak doors of the headmaster’s office were closed. He escorted her onto the moving circular staircase, and she expected to soon be stepping onto the second floor of Hogwarts proper, but that’s not what happened.

“As long as the heart beats, the body may live,” said Albus solemnly.

“That’s a peculiar thing to say…” began Lin, but the downward movement of the staircase silenced her. Lin saw the back of the gargoyle that guarded the second-floor entrance to the staircase as it continued its spiraling descent. The air became chilled as they descended farther and farther down. When the air became hot and humid, the staircase began to slow and finally stopped. Albus offered his arm again and led Lin off the staircase and into what appeared to be a small dark chamber. But once she passed through the naturally created doorway, she was amazed to see an enormous cavern occupied solely by huge formations of rock crystal; they were colossal beyond description and the tops of them bored into the bedrock above them. Normally such an expansive space makes a person feel small or maybe a little apprehensive, but this place felt so benign, so peaceful, that Lin could only describe it as sacred.

“How did that crystal get into the rock?” said Lin.

“Magic is a curious thing,” replied Albus as he led Lin to an enormous formation of crystal that was thicker than Hagrid was tall. This particular formation was semi-circular and formed a kind of chamber that Albus led her into.

“Won’t standing on the crystal damage it, Albus?”

“Doing so would damage normal quartz, but it won’t harm this.” Albus looked up and Lin’s eyes followed his. This semi-circular wall of quartz rose high above them and bored into the bedrock above just like the other large crystals. Albus smiled as his eyes flitted down to meet Lin’s. “We are far beneath Hogwarts’ foundation. This chamber didn’t exist at the time the school was built, but has been formed over the millennia that Hogwarts has stood here. The quartz formations in this cavern have grown, and continue to grow, at an extraordinary rate due to the large and steady flow of magic that a school full of high-spirited magical children has provided.”

“We are standing on the oldest formation and are in the very center of the cavern. A little bit of magic from each and every witch and wizard that has walked through Hogwarts’ halls flows through this quartz. Much like a wand, the quartz collects, amplifies, and directs magic. The vast amount of magic that has been collected and channeled through the crystal has, over time, made the castle quasi-sentient. Hogwarts is almost a living being. And because most of the magic has been collected from children, the castle’s personality is youthful and mischievous, but entirely benevolent. As long as this chamber remains undamaged, Hogwarts can never fall.”

“Why are you telling me this, Albus?”

“Touch the quartz, Lin.” Lindsay stood between the massive pillars of quartz. For some inexplicable reason, she was nervous. She extended her hand and laid it against the crystal. She listened to a low hum—no it was low rhythmic sound and thought, at first, that she was listening with her ears, but quickly realized that the sound was in her mind. She looked at Albus whose smile broadened. “As long as the heart beats, the body may live.” Lin let her hand fall away. “For security reasons, it has traditionally only been the headmaster who has had knowledge of, and access to, this chamber; but I’ve made sure that Minerva knows of it. I must ask you not to divulge this secret to anyone else, not even Severus.”

“You have my word, Albus, but I still don’t understand why I’m here.”

“Touch the crystal again. This time I want you to concentrate on Minerva.”

Lin did as instructed and a very clear picture of Minerva sitting in her study reading popped into her mind. The vision was so clear and appeared so real that Lin didn’t question its authenticity or its accuracy. “She’s in her study reading a book.”

“Anyone on Hogwarts’ grounds can be located precisely and instantly in this manner.”

“I don’t understand why you’re telling me this.”

“These crystals and Hogwarts will help you channel your unique gift—”

“What are you telling me, Albus?”

Albus inhaled deeply. He appeared apprehensive, which made Lin desperately nervous. “Listen carefully, do not interrupt. You will come back here at the correct time. You will know when, and you will use your unique gift to protect Harry Potter and only Harry.”

“What? Why do I have to protect Harry?”

“You will discover that in time.”

“Alright, I’ll play along,” said Lin, whose temper was reaching the end of its tether. “In what way am I to protect Harry?”

“You know that war is coming, Lin. Harry has a very important role to play in the battle. You must keep him alive so he can perform the task that’s been allotted to him.”

“But Harry’s just a boy, Albus.”

“He’s a very special boy. You’ve no idea just how special.”

Lin backed away from Albus. Her eyes darted around the quartz chamber she stood in trying to find something to focus on that didn’t include Albus, the man she’d trusted unreservedly for the past three years. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and as broken as she felt. “All this training, and attention, and protection wasn’t for my welfare at all. You just need me to perform a service.”

“I’m sorry, Lin,” said Albus softly, his voice barely above a whisper and nearly cracking from emotion.

“All this time, I thought you actually cared about me.”

“I do, Lin,” insisted Albus fervently. “I do care. I want you to be safe. I want everyone to be safe, but I can’t protect you.” Albus began to shake. For the first since she’d met him, she saw a crack in Albus’ mettle. He seemed to be getting weak in the knees and Lin thought to conjure a chair for him, but she had no talent for such magic and feared the product of such an attempt. As it happens, the connection she thought she’d severed with Hogwarts was still active, and the castle conjured the chair for her. Lin took hold of Albus’ arms and directed him into a large, purple, cushy chair. She knelt next to him with her hand still on his arm.

“There’s more to this than just Harry,” said Lin gently. “What are you trying to say, Albus?”

“You’re not the only one I’ve been grooming, Lin. There are many others, each with a very important role to play. I’ve given all of you the tools you need to succeed and, hopefully, survive. I’ve done everything I can, but I can’t protect you anymore.”

Lin patted Albus’ arm. “You’re just tired and feeling insecure. You have nothing to worry about, Albus. Everyone I know has told me that you’re the greatest wizard since Merlin. They can’t all be wrong. The Dark Lord is arrogant, but not stupid. He fears you for a reason.”

“I’m not afraid of facing Voldemort.” Albus’ resolve was rapidly returning and the firmness of his tone clearly showed it. He rose and the chair vanished. Lin stood with him, and dabbed the sweat from her brow with Albus’ handkerchief. “One thing I could never be accused of is underestimating my own abilities.”

Lin, perceptive as she was, heard a great deal more than Albus had actually said. “That’s a loaded statement if ever I heard one. Care to elaborate?”

“That will be a discussion for later date.” Albus swiped the air with his left hand and words appeared in blue letters, the same words he’d spoken on the staircase. “I know that your memory works best with things you see, and I need you to remember this. It is of utmost importance that you correctly recall this phrase.”

“I’ll remember it, Albus. I promise.”

Again Albus proffered his arm. “I’ll take you home now. Pack everything you own. I’ll return in a few hours to take you to a new safe-house.” They disapparated silently, leaving the great monoliths to continue their work undisturbed.    


	58. Chapter 58

Albus didn’t linger. As soon as their bodies materialized in Lin’s flat, Albus nodded to her and disappeared. Lin immediately set about packing her things. Her mind was swimming with doubt and insecurity; her thoughts and feeling conflicted. Despite her insecurities, she was still obeying Albus. Lin was torn between respect for a wizard who was tremendously powerful and wise beyond estimation and struggling with feelings of hurt and anger for having been used. She felt like a means to an end.

Lin was packed in under an hour. All of her luggage was piled on and around the kitchen table. It was another two hours before Albus returned, and Lin spent the time pacing.

“Please forgive me for rushing you, Lin, but the circumstances require that I circumvent the usual pleasantries.”

“It’s fine, Albus. I want to get this move over with as quickly as possible.”

Albus tilted his head toward Lin’s luggage. “Is that everything?” She nodded her answer while nervously wringing her hands. Albus said nothing nor did he lift a finger. All the luggage quickly shrank into minute sizes and floated into the outside left pocket of Albus’ sport coat. He extended his left arm and Lin took it.

They reappeared inside a stone and timber structure that was clearly very old. The stone-walled interior was clean and sparse. There was one long open room that was already comfortably warmed by the flickering fire in the stone hearth. There was a single closed wooden door at the far end of the long rectangular room; it stood adjacent to the hearth. At the opposite end was a kitchen that would’ve been considered the height of Muggle technology in the early nineteen-forties.

The kitchen area included a large pantry that extended into the living/dining area. A few feet from the kitchen stood a rustic wooden table with handmade chairs that provided enough seating for four. Opposite the table, placed lengthwise along the wall, sat a wood-framed bed that was just large enough to accommodate two adults; at its foot sat a birthing chair that appeared old enough to have been used a countless number times. Next to the chair sat an antique and delicately carved wooden baby cradle.

“It’s charming, Albus.” Lin let go of Albus’ arm and strode to the closed door. The room behind it was packed from floor to ceiling with wooden crates. A small pathway led through the room to a full washroom. Both rooms were obviously added magically, and Lin suspected that the hearth originally took up most of the wall on this side of the stone cabin.

Albus was oddly silent as he waited for Lin to get acquainted with her new living space. Lin emerged from her quick perusal of the washroom and drew her wand to get more light. With a better view of the small room, she supposed that the bed near the table had formerly resided in this room. She moved her lighted wand near the crates’ labels, all written in Albus’ neat hand. There were clean linens, toiletries, medicinal potions, potion-making supplies and ingredients, and even baby supplies. But the majority of the crates were filled with food items. Lin’s breath hitched as the shock of realization passed through her; tears welled in her eyes. She holstered her wand and ran out to face Albus, who was waiting for her, still standing in the same spot as when he arrived.

“You’re leaving me for good, aren’t you? You’re abandoning me.”

“You’ll be safe here, Lin,” said Albus softly, almost patronizingly.

“I don’t even know where I am. I assume I’m in a rural setting, judging by the accommodations.”

“You need to remain isolated until the baby is born. This is for your own good.”

“What if there’s an emergency? Where will I go? Who will I call?”

“I have provided all the medicinal potions you could possibly need, and there are medical texts to help you if any problems should arise.”

“And the birth, Albus? Do you expect me to attend myself?”

“I shall send a midwife to you at the proper time.”

Albus’ tone was so matter-of-fact, so nonchalant that Lin’s feelings changed instantly from upset to furious. She strode toward Albus and slapped his face. “How dare you do this to me! How dare you treat me like a pawn!”

“I deserve that,” said Albus pleasantly.

“Dammit, Albus!” shouted Lin with her fists balled at her side. “Just what sort of game are you playing?”

“A delicately balanced one.”

Lin moved to the table and plopped down onto a chair. She wiped her tear-streaked face with the back of her hand, placed her elbows on the table, and laid her head in her hands. “You expect me to accept being abandoned here for nine months without knowing what’s happened to anyone, and without Severus knowing he’s a father?”

Albus moved to sit next her. He slid himself into the nearest chair with a grace that belied his advanced years and rapidly failing health. “It has to be this way, Lin,” said Albus gently. “Voldemort has lost interest in you, but his followers haven’t. There are some who distrust Severus, and if they found you with an infant, it would give them an opportunity to gain their master’s favor. You and the baby would be killed and something far worse would happen to Severus.”

“Worse than death?”

“You’re still relatively new to the magical world, but I’m sure you’ve seen enough of it to imagine the possibilities.”

Lin was silent for several minutes, and Albus allowed her the time to collect herself. “I never meant to fall in love with Severus. I didn’t even like him when I met him. He could be so mean spirited. But then I realized there was more to him than he likes to show. There’s more good in him than he’ll admit to, and I can’t help but love him. But much of him is still a mystery to me, and I wonder if I’ve made the wrong choice.”

“Severus is a complicated man, but he is worthy of your love. Give him time to prove himself,” said Albus softly, his voice once again a comfort to her.

“I can’t give him something I don’t have.”

“Don’t be maudlin.”

Lin lifted her head from her hands. “You’re abandoning me in a stone hut in the middle of nowhere, and you have the nerve to call me maudlin?”

“It’s a delightful rustic cottage in a wholesome country setting. You’re being protected, Lin, not abandoned.”

“This is my first child. I’d like his father here for the birth, for comfort if nothing else.”

Albus sighed, more from exhaustion than from agitation. He knew how difficult a transition this was for her. She had good reason to be both angry and frightened. “You know that’s not possible.”

“I don’t think I can do this, Albus.”

“You’ll find the strength.” Albus squeezed her hand, and she placed her other hand over his. “Love will make you strong.”

“That’s very poetic, Albus, but love can’t stop hemorrhages, or infection, or any number of other complications. I need to be near a hospital.”

“Lindsay Rose Gray, you are not a delicate Muggle and your baby is perfectly healthy. You have nothing to worry about.”

“I have Severus to worry about and apparently Harry Potter as well. How could you involve a teenager in all this subterfuge?”

“It was not I who placed this burden on Harry’s shoulders.”

“Just what is so special about him?”

“That I cannot tell you, but I will say this: There is nothing and no one more important than Harry. He must be protected at all costs.” Albus squeezed her hand again, his voice an uneasy mixture of authority and desperation. “Do you hear me, Lin? At all costs.”

“Harry’s too young for this, Albus.”

“I know,” replied Albus and in that moment all the guilt and concern he felt swelled within him and the weight of it all seemed almost to overwhelm him. Albus knew he would die soon and that knowledge didn’t frighten him. It was his inability to protect the people he cared for from harm that so terribly upset him. He felt helpless and, in some ways, hopeless. A streak of arrogance ran though Albus’ character; he accepted and admitted this flaw, but his profound magical abilities and intelligence justified its presence.

Knowing that he wouldn’t be around to lead the good fight, to take the brunt of the enemies’ force was too great a burden. Lesser witches and wizards would have to stand alone in defiance of Voldemort. Not a single one, save Harry Potter, stood the remotest chance of surviving direct contact with Voldemort. Even a witch with Minerva’s raw power and acute wit would be little more than a distraction for him. There was so much at stake and Albus would be powerless to help. “Harry will do what I cannot. He’ll do what needs doing whatever the cost.”

Lin didn’t need to be a Legillimens to see the pain in Albus’ eyes. He was hiding a great burden from her. “What is it, Albus? I can see something’s upsetting you.”

“It’s my burden, Lin.”

“Sharing will lessen its weight.” Albus burst into a fit of hearty laughter. “What’s so funny?”

“I once said that same thing to a very troubled young man.”

“What was his reply?”

“A silent angry glare.”

“Would this troubled young man be Severus?”

“You’re very clever, Lin.”

“Not really, I just pay attention to people. Now fess up, Albus. Don’t bottle everything up like Severus does. It’s unhealthy.”

With a barely perceptible flick of his index finger, a kettle moved through the kitchen and settled on an instantly hot burner of the aged, but fully functional stove. Two brown ceramic mugs flew out of a rustic kitchen cabinet and settled on the table; one in front of Lin and the other in front of Albus. Both mugs already had a teabag and sugar inside them; one sugar cube for Lin and six for Albus. The kettle began to whistle and Albus flicked his finger again. The kettle floated over to the table and filled both mugs with hit water. A small brown creamer carafe floated behind it, pouring milk into the waiting mugs.

Albus blew on his hot tea and sipped it before speaking. “I was in love once, and I made the worst possible choice of partner. He never returned my affection.”

“We all make mistakes, Albus. There are more fish in the sea.”

“Not for me.”

“It’s a terrible thing to be alone.”

“Love isn’t for everyone, Lin.”

She was shocked that Albus would say such a thing. “Of course it is! This isn’t because of your orientation, is it?”

“No, no, the magical community doesn’t suffer from Muggle biases. We have enough biases of our own.”

“Maybe it’s just a fear of being hurt again. You need to pluck up some Gryffindor courage and try again.”

Albus laughed, but it was a mirthless depressing sound. “I allowed myself to be blinded by love. I was so taken with his intelligence, his magical prowess, and his beauty that I ignored everything else. I ignored what he truly was. Thousands suffered and died because of my selfishness.” 

“Are you talking about the first war?” Albus nodded and sipped more tea. “You can’t blame yourself for that. You stopped Grindelwald. You prevented countless deaths.”

“I could’ve prevented all of them had I acted sooner,” said Albus and Lin had never heard such venom and self-reproach in his voice. “People begged me to help, and I did nothing. My brother and I fought bitterly over my apathy regarding Gellert. Aberforth is a much braver man than me, and more selfless. He has a much shorter temper, but he’s overall a better man. Aberforth attempted to stop Gellert long before he’d gained any political power, and it ended in a three-way duel between myself, Aberforth, and Gellert. My poor sister, Arianna, tried to protect Aberforth—he was her favorite brother, you see—and the poor girl was struck dead by a stray spell.” Lin’s breath hitched, but she said nothing. There were no words that could offer comfort. She squeezed his hand with both of hers to offer the only support she could. “It doesn’t matter which of us struck the mortal blow. It was my fault she died; my fault that Gellert escaped, and my fault that he was able to amass such power. It wasn’t until I could no longer ignore all the suffering that I finally did what I should’ve done from the start.” Albus sat back, pulled his left hand free of Lin’s, and wiped his tear-filled eyes. “I’ve carried that guilt for much too long.”

“You can’t punish yourself for an entire lifetime over a mistake you made as a boy.”

“We weren’t playing schoolboy games, Lin. We were planning the enslavement of beings we considered to be less than ourselves. We planned to dominate them for what we, in our arrogance, believed to be the greater good. And I would’ve continued my despotic quest had I not been so devastated over my sister’s death. Aberforth tried to make me see; he tried to tell me that Gellert was also planning the eradication of problematic magical people like Arianna. My poor sister was unwell, you see; she was unbalanced. And Gellert considered her, and people like her, an embarrassment to the magical race. I was so infatuated with him that I refused to accept the reality of what he proposed. I refused to see the cruelty in him, in both of us.”

“I won’t try to tell you that you didn’t do wrong, Albus. I’d be doing you an injustice if I tried. But I must ask; at what point have you punished yourself enough for your wrongdoing? You’ve done your best to right the wrongs you committed. What else can you do?”

“Not allow myself to forget.”

“Self-abuse won’t change the past.”

“But self-delusion can cause the past to be repeated. I can’t stress enough the importance of honest introspection.”

“Albus, you have to stop being cruel to yourself over a mistake you made decades ago.”

“I did not make a mistake, as you refer to it; I have a persistent character flaw that requires monitoring.”

“You’re much too self-critical, Albus.”

“Life rarely offers up second chances, but I was fortunate enough to be given a chance to redeem myself, Again, I failed miserably. I found a piteous boy who’d never known love, and I thought I could change him. I thought he was cruel because he’d been treated cruelly. That boy’s abilities were so profound that I saw myself in him. I convinced myself that with the right guidance, the right training, he would learn compassion and love. I thought attending Hogwarts would give him a sense of belonging, of comradery.”

“Headmaster Dippet eventually saw Tom Riddle for what he really was, but I couldn’t see it. I refused to accept the truth because I allowed myself to be blinded by love and pity for a poor mistreated little boy. My devotion produced a well-trained well-educated dark wizard, the most powerful dark wizard of all time. Lord Voldemort would never have come into being if not for me.”

“You can’t blame yourself for him, Albus. He was born a monster.”

“No one is born a monster, Lin. We become monsters through circumstance.”

“By choice, Albus, not circumstance. I met Tom Riddle, and he is most surely a monster. I’ve never met anyone whose presence radiated evil as that man’s does.”

“The person you met is barely human now. I knew him when he was an impressionable child; a child that was all too human.”

“Riddle made his own choices, Albus. You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.”

“Perhaps, but the moral of the tale is this: Not only did I not intervene when I should have, but I helped train the darkest wizard in history.” Albus sighed and sipped at his tea. “It has taken me many years and many blunders to fully understand myself. I am a selfish man. I can’t see fault in those I love.”

“Well, I suppose you’re really are as human as the rest of us,” laughed Lin. “We’re all blinded a little by love.”

“But I am not like everyone else. I am the most powerful wizard since Merlin. And to allow myself to be manipulated by love is to allow a lesser wizard to wield me like a weapon.”

“That’s much too harsh, Albus.”

“There is no greater force in the universe than love. There is nothing more profound, more mystifying, more awesome than love; it is powerful beyond compare. To seek love is, for me at least, to also seek power. I am a power-seeker, which is why I don’t deserve love.”

“How can you be so kind to everyone else and so cruel to yourself?”

Albus rose from his chair. The pleasant smile that graced his face didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s getting late dear. I must say goodbye.”

Lin rose and embraced him tightly. “I prefer to say farewell. Goodbye is too final.”

Albus kissed her cheek. The soft white whiskers of his beard brushed lightly against her face. He wanted to tell her why he chose goodbye instead of farewell. He wanted to tell her he was dying because he wanted to be comforted. Much like most everyone else Albus knew, Lin was deeply respectful of him and dependent on him for guidance and protection. But unlike most others, Lin’s respect for him didn’t border on worship, nor did she fear him.

In Lin’s view, Albus was a man first and a wizard second. He had no fear of appearing human in her presence, and he knew she wouldn’t hesitate to offer him the solace he sought. But seeking comfort would’ve been much too self-indulgent, and he didn’t serve the luxury. Lin had enough trials ahead of her. She needed to feel protected. She needed to believe that Albus could keep her safe, so he remained silent.

“Goodbye my friend and confessor.”

“Take care of yourself, Albus.”

He smiled again and placed his hand under her chin before disappearing. Lin felt the same profound sense of lonesomeness and abandonment that she had when her family died in a car accident all those years ago. She began to cry, but mentally berated herself. She placed her hands on her belly and said aloud, “Don’t worry, Niketas. Mommy will stop sniveling and get to work.”


	59. Chapter 59

Lindsay lay on the bed and rested her eyes, but she was too agitated to sleep. So many thoughts swarmed her at once that there was no chance of soothing repose. Albus assured her that Niketas was healthy, but she still worried about the birth. She was having her first child, and she couldn’t help but feel anxious. She worried that Severus wouldn’t live long enough to see his son. She worried that Harry Potter would have to see and do things that he was much too young to cope with. But more than anything, she worried for her sanity. Nine months of being completely alone would drive her out of her mind. The one thing Lindsay couldn’t handle was being alone. The empty silence of the cottage made her feel as though she were lost within a fortress of stone. But her child needed her to be strong, and that was the one thing that made her steal herself.

She rose before dawn and forced herself to eat a hearty breakfast. Her baby needed the nourishment. She had no appetite and it took her ages to finish eating. Lindsay loved food; she loved eating it, cooking it, shopping for it and talking about it. The one thing she didn’t do was grow it. But her current situation reduced her interest to nil. There was no one to share a meal with; no one to talk about the meal with, and no one to cook for. Lin’s sensitive palate disappeared immediately and everything she ate and drank seemed to have no flavor at all.

The first thing Lindsay did after eating was to go outside and take a look at her surroundings. It was a bright clear morning. The air was crisp and very cool and the sky was a vivid azure blue broken by the occasional large, fluffy, white cloud. She was high in the mountains and the air smelled fresh and clean. Thick patches of vibrant green crowned by multi-colored flowers showed through the melting snow on a steep slope that led to a great swathe of evergreen trees.

Lin turned to look at the cottage. To a Muggle’s eyes, it probably looked like a huge cluster of crumbling boulders. It blended so well into the rocks and shrubbery around it that it was virtually invisible. The heavy wooden door was its most obvious feature. The fire inside the hearth was magical so there were no puffs of smoke rising from the stubby stone chimney. Around the back of the cottage was a disused footpath that disappeared amongst the tall pine trees. Far below the trees, twisting along the very steep slopes and disappearing between rolling hills, was a narrow road barely wide enough for a single compact car.

Lin shivered, rubbed her arms, and re-entered the cottage to warm up. She wouldn’t be roaming about outside without a coat until the weather warmed a bit more. She looked about the small warm space that seemed so large and empty to her and fought back tears

“This will not do,” said Lin to herself, her tone rather harsh. “You’re a grown woman with a baby who needs you to be strong.” Her eyes travelled to her pile of luggage that clogged the small space between the kitchen and the bed. She set about sorting her things into something neater.

There was no place to put her clothing so she’d have to live out of her suitcases; but Lin was well-travelled and had done that before. She stacked her art supplies under the table and on chairs as she only really needed one. She moved one table chair near the birthing chair so she could use it to shelve medicinal potions that she might need during the birth. Her eyes kept traveling to the birthing chair; it appeared almost medieval to her, but then again obstetrics was not her area.

Lin’s next task was to sketch a portrait of Severus. She spoke to the portrait as though Severus were actually there with her. It quickly became dog-eared and smudged because she carried it around with her, so she drew more portraits and hung them on the walls. The cottage quickly began to look like a shrine to Severus, so Lin sketched portraits of other people for diversity.

She spoke to all of the portraits as though the people they depicted were actually with her. The drawings were a diversion, a necessary fantasy; but Lin wondered how easy it would be to become blind to the line between reality and fantasy. She was shocked when she took stock of all the drawings. There were far fewer Muggles than witches and wizards. Lin hadn’t realized just how much she’d assimilated into the new world that Minerva and Albus had introduced her to.

Despite having many portraits of friendly chatty folks, it was Severus’ images she spoke to the most; which Lin thought was a bit odd since Severus was rarely conversational, and she had difficulty imagining what his replies would be. Severus was a fascinating man when he chose to engage, but most of the time he just listened; and he truly did listen. When prodded, Severus could recite verbatim whatever Lin had said to him no matter how lengthy her rambling had been. His memory of the spoken word was better than Lin’s. That was yet another of Severus’ talents that made him an excellent spy; it was almost as if the man had been born for such an occupation.

Lin sorted the potions that Albus had provided and made a few that Severus had taught her, all the time hoping she wouldn’t need them; and if she did, she hoped she’d be conscious enough to use them without assistance. There was a great variety of potions ingredients, so many in fact that Lin wondered what Albus expected her to do with them.

It was too soon to pack the baby cradle with linens, but Lin wanted to sort through them for reference. Underneath the tiny sheets, soft blankets, and linen diapers, she found a small package wrapped in heavy brown paper and tied with a bright-red bow. A label simply reading ‘Niketas’ was scrawled across it in Albus’ hand. Lin opened it to find a lavender baby blanket with pastel-colored bunnies charmed to jump and run all over it and dig little holes to disappear into. Lin smiled and hugged the soft blanket; it even smelled like the lilac toilet water that Albus occasionally wore.

“A thoughtful gift from a thoughtful man,” said Lin aloud. She could hardly wait to use it. “Thank you, Albus.”

Lin woke very early one morning to a chilled cottage. The fire had gone out, which was odd as it had been burning steadily since Albus lit it a couple of weeks ago. It seemed odd to her at first, but then she assumed that Albus had charmed it to go out at a certain time assuming, perhaps, that the weather was warm enough to not need a roaring hearth. “No matter,” thought Lin; her magic was good enough to produce a usable flame, and she really only needed the heat through the evening and early morning hours. Of course, she couldn’t produce a fire as good as Albus’, which she discovered changed color every hour, but she could make something that would be a steady source of heat.

Pregnancy agreed with Lindsay. She had no morning sickness and had an abundance of energy. It was now early November and Lin was just starting to show. She’d gained very little weight, but her face was noticeably rounder. Her mother carried small; it looked as if Lin took after her.

It had snowed a little that morning, as if the chilled air wasn’t enough of an indication that winter was approaching. Lindsay had spent months looking at the disused path outside the cottage and longed to learn where it led. This morning’s snowfall had made up her mind for her. If she didn’t travel the path soon, her way would be blocked by snow, so off she went down the path, her coat and scarf bundled around her. She took a backpack with her that contained a few necessities like water and a few medicinal potions in case she became lost or injured.

The weedy overgrown path felt good under her feet despite the ground being hard. Lin had been cooped up for so long that this actually felt like an adventure to her. Albus would discourage her current activity. Severus would be cross with her for doing something so foolish. She knew that Severus couldn’t visit her, but she was surprised that Albus hadn’t made an appearance. She thought he’d at least write to her. She knew that Albus was a very busy man, but it was unlike him to not send a short note occasionally.

The hills around Lin were dotted with farm animals, sturdy wood-framed homes, and a combination of wood-framed and old stone structures that looked like barns and storage sheds. It all looked very cheerful and quaint. A cow stood in the middle of the path that Lin walked; its comrades were high on the hill, some standing, others lounging. The cow barely acknowledged Lin as she sidled around it, careful not to get too close to the edge of the road because of its proximity to a very sheer rocky slope. The cows on the hill began mooing in unison and the lone straggler blocking Lin’s way ran up the hillside to join her little herd. The bell on the cow’s collar clanged as she ran.

The path wound steadily downward until it bisected what looked like a tiny village. Lindsay realized, when she approached closely enough, that it was actually a marketplace. Dozens of heads turned in her direction as she drew near. Lin smiled and nodded. Some of the locals responded in kind, others eyed her suspiciously. Lin was well-travelled and had been in small towns and villages before. She knew how paranoid and unfriendly small-town folk could sometimes be.

Lindsay listened attentively to conversations as she passed by small chatting groups and realized that everyone was speaking French. It wasn’t the French she’d learned when living in Paris with her family as a pre-teen, but she understood well enough to communicate easily. The language combined with the terrain suggested that Albus had Left Lin somewhere in French-speaking Switzerland. She chatted with anyone who was receptive and very quickly put smiles on formerly suspicious faces.

Something that was almost immediately apparent to Lin was that these people were Muggles. She thought it amusing that Albus was constantly telling her that she was a witch and she must accept the fact, and yet he chose to hide her amongst Muggles. Albus was a delightful man, but he was every bit as peculiar as Severus.

As Lin was trying to focus on the conversations going on around her, her attention was drawn to a tall burly man with a deep gravelly voice. He was shouting at two teenage boys on motorbikes who’d apparently spooked his two cart-pulling horses. If Hagrid had a fully Muggle brother, this man would be him. He petted and soothed his horses as the two boys quickly walked their motorbikes away and out of the horses’ line of sight.

Not far from Hagrid’s Muggle twin stood a sort of rudimentary café. A pretty young girl who looked to be in her late teens was trying to serve two young men of roughly thirty years of age. The girl appeared nervous and the men had an obvious predatory manner about them. They spoke French, but their accents sounded a bit off. To Lin’s ear, they sounded Northern German, perhaps from Hamburg. Another man appeared and moved the girl away; taking the foreigners’ orders himself. This man strongly resembled the young waitress, and Lin assumed he was either her father or an uncle.

Lin was desperate to sit down and try the local fare, but she’d already wasted too much time on a very foolish endeavor. She haggled with a few shop owners and greatly overpaid them with British pounds because she didn’t have Swiss francs and transfiguration was her poorest magical skill. The shop owners would make a comfortable profit once they exchanged the money for their native currency. Lindsay bought fresh apples, milk, eggs, cheese, and bread. She’d run out of fresh milk and eggs some time ago and was tired of the powdered varieties that Albus had provided for her. The fresh things she’d bought would be quite a treat.

Lindsay wanted nothing more than to stay and chat with each and every person there, but she had a long walk home and she well knew that she should never have come in the first place. She ended a conversation with a gentlemanly old man whose skin was heavily weathered from a lifetime of working out-of-doors and excused herself with the intent of heading home.

She was stopped by the two foreign men, one on either side of her. One man was a little taller than her and the other was about eye level. She hadn’t realized that they’d noticed her. They fired off a barrage of questions about why she was there, where she was staying, and when she’d arrived in the area. Lindsay’s smile and demeanor were pleasant, but she answered nothing. She told them she was late and her husband would be worried. They both put a hand on her shoulders to stop her as she tried to walk away.

The two men weren’t rough with her, nor were they disagreeable despite being too aggressive. If anything, their behavior could best be described as overly friendly, but Lin was a studier of people and wasn’t so easily duped. She considered accepting their offer of having a meal with them because she didn’t want to appear frightened of them, although she was, and she didn’t want them following her home.  

The elderly gentleman she’d spoken to had left his chair, unbeknownst to her, and fetched Hagrid’s twin. His loud rough voice rumbled behind her, uttering a very unpleasant threat that would be unrepeatable in polite company. The two men darted away without rebuttal and without so much as a glance in Lindsay’s direction. Lindsay turned to thank him, but was told quite gruffly, to go home as quickly as she could.

Lindsay did as she was told while Hagrid’s twin blocked the two overly friendly men from following her. She walked quickly and mentally scolded herself on the way home. What she’d done was foolish. She’d put her baby in danger, and for what? A little fresh food and some much-longed-for conversation weren’t worth trading for her baby’s welfare.

Lin thought about the two men as she put away her freshly bought food. They were obviously well known among the locals and had a very negative reputation. She wondered what they’d done or had tried to do, and why their presence was still tolerated. Theories abounded and working through them gave her a mental puzzle to occupy her mind. They also served as warnings to keep her from wandering away from the cottage.


	60. Chapter 60

Months passed like slow-moving decades. Lindsay was now in her ninth month and was getting very uncomfortable. Her energy levels were still high and she’d never felt healthier, but the loneliness and boredom was taking a great toll on her mood. She cried often and later felt guilty for potentially making her baby miserable. Then a thought struck her as a bolt of lightning: what if her little Niketas had his father’s depressive temperament? Lin sat upright in her bed. She hadn’t considered this problem before and just assumed that her child would be happy because he’d be loved.

Lindsay rose and began to pace the floor. This new anxiety occupied her mind wholly. She didn’t mind if her son had a peculiar temperament so long as he was a well-adjusted, secure, and happy child. She thought of Severus and his brief moments of relatively good cheer. She really didn’t know if Severus was dour by nature, or if he’d been made miserable by circumstance, or if he’d cultivated his personality for espionage purposes.

Lin was not so blinded by her unexpected and inexplicable love for Severus that she was oblivious to his faults. He could be jealous and controlling, and he had a cruel streak in him that Lindsay despised. His poor hygiene thoroughly annoyed her. But he had many good qualities too: he was very protective, at least of her, and he had a good sense of humor when he chose to employ it. He was reliable, hardworking, and dauntless. He could even be kind at times; an austere sort of kindness, but kind nonetheless. Hopefully little Niketas would inherit more of his father’s good qualities than bad.

Lindsay’s anxious ruminations were interrupted by a distant sound outside. She stood stock still and listened hard. The unearthly silence in the cottage made it easy to focus on outside noises. It was a clanging metallic sound and Lindsay assumed a cow had wandered near her cottage. It wouldn’t be the first cow that had wandered away from the herd, but they usually did most of their wandering in the daytime. Lindsay put on her shoes and slipped her coat on over her pink lounge clothes and wandered outside to see if the cow was in distress.

She followed the clanging sound with her lit wand in her left hand to light her way. Lumos maxima would’ve been very handy to use, but Lindsay feared that some of the native inhabitants might see it and come rushing to locate the source of all the light. The moon was bright, but the many tall trees cast long shadows. Trudging down the path hurt her back. She stopped to rest and to listen for the clanging sound. She could tell the clanging sound was nearby yet it sounded muffled. Perhaps a cow had caught its collar on something.

The next sound Lindsay heard made her wish she’d stayed in her cottage. The muted clanging was followed by a mooing sound that was clearly not being made by a cow. Lindsay looked around and saw the green eye-shine of many cows far up on the hillside. They obviously weren’t moved by the bad imitation of cow calls and were resolutely staying where they were. Someone was obviously trying to lure one or more cows down the hillside, but for what purpose? Why would someone try to lure cows down to a spot that was so close to a crag in the middle of the night unless they were trying to do something unspeakably cruel?

Lindsay extinguished the light from her wand with the intention of going back up the hill, but it was too late. She’d been spotted. She was grabbed from behind by one of the German men she’d met at the market some months ago. He called to his friend, who appeared almost instantly holding a cowbell in his hand. They spoke to each other in what sounded like Low German to Lindsay. Her German wasn’t good enough to fully understand the conversation, but she grasped enough of what they were saying to know that the two men were no longer interested in tormenting cows. Lindsay’s obvious pregnancy wasn’t a deterrent to their plans. She let the two men think that they had the upper hand and did what she did best. She began to converse with them. She spoke to them in French and chatted in her most amiable and disarming manner.

The one holding her relaxed a little and leaned in to lick her cheek. The other one remarked about her belly and placed his hand on her without asking. Lindsay went along as though she found his behavior delightful. Niketas was restless, perhaps feeling his mother’s agitation, and he was kicking hard and moving more than he ever had. The one touching her belly remarked to the other who released his hold enough to also place his hand on her belly. Lindsay placed her hands on theirs in an attempt to appear more cooperative. They continued to converse with each other in German and in French with Lindsay.

While this unpleasant altercation was occurring, Lindsay focused on something happy, the way Remus had taught her, until a wisp of silver burst forth from her wand, which went unnoticed by the men. Lindsay’s patronus was on its way to rouse her nearest neighbor by growling viciously like a wolf and hopefully draw him down to check on his precious cows. Lindsay hoped she could stall the Germans until her ill-tempered neighbor arrived.

Niketas kicked hard, hard enough to make Lindsay draw a sharp breath. The man in front of her held his hand on her belly and grinned as he felt the baby’s distressed kicking. He laughed and said something to his friend. Lindsay claimed her back hurt and asked to sit down. The man behind her took off his coat and laid it on the ground in the long shadow of a tall wintergreen tree. She thanked him for his chivalry, and he even had the good manners to help her sit and offered himself as a backrest for her. His hands roamed a little, but he didn’t touch anything inappropriate.

The other man sat next to her still holding the cowbell, which he moved back and forth letting it ring out in a muted clang. He ran his free hand up and down Lindsay’s leg. She wondered if the men, though obnoxious and disruptive, were interested enough in her baby’s welfare to be satisfied with just female company and nothing more. Lindsay was too forgiving. The one sitting behind her put his hands on her belly again and spoke to his friend, who smiled viciously; looking very much like the venomous animal he was.

Lindsay wasn’t sure exactly what the German had said, but she did recognize that it was a question. From the words she did understand, she put together the general meaning of his question to be: “Can we make it come out?” Lindsay felt nauseated. If someone didn’t appear soon, she’d be forced to throw these two reprobates over the crag. The only thing that stopped her was a fear of committing murder and the risk of damaging her soul. Surely she wouldn’t risk splitting her soul if she killed them in self-defense?

She considered immobilizing them as Severus had taught her, but because of their proximity she’d risk one of them grabbing her wand. She’d also risk giving away her identity as a witch. The locals were very tolerant of a strange Muggle in their midst, but they may not be so accepting of a wand-wielding witch. In her current condition, running away was not an option. Lindsay was practically immobilized with fear for her baby’s safety. Thinking of Severus reprimanding her for her indecision gave her courage.

The man behind Lindsay began lifting her shirt and the one next to her clanged his cowbell again. The sound that followed was so ferocious it startled all of them. Lindsay thought it was a shout, but the man that uttered it was so incensed that whatever he’d said sounded like the howl of a wild beast. His cows were mooing and their bells were clanging as they shared their master’s agitation.

The two Germans rose to meet Hagrid’s twin head-on. Lindsay rose with a dancer’s agility and slipped deeper into the shadows. She turned to see Hagrid’s twin bashing the Germans’ heads together and shouting threats at them for trying to hurt his cows. Lindsay turned and made her way up the path to her cottage. She was almost home when she was forced to stop due to a terrible pain in her lower back. She gently patted her belly hoping to stop the baby’s frantic movement. “Settle down, Niketas. We’re almost home.”

Lin caught her breath and began walking again. She had just passed through the cottage’s door when pain wracked her again. “Not now, baby, Mommy’s not ready.”

“The baby comes when it’s ready, not when the mother is ready.” Lin jumped at the sound of a strange woman’s voice. “Relax, my dear,” said a luminescent ghost dressed in a medi-witch’s uniform. “I’m here to help you. Albus Dumbledore sent me.”

“Albus sent a ghost to attend me?” said Lin.

“Well, I wasn’t a ghost when he asked me!” Lin bent over again from the pain of another contraction. “You need to get those clothes off,” said the ghost.

“No, no,” replied Lin, “I just need to rest. I’ve had a rough evening.”

“You’re in labor, my dear. There’s no time to waste.”

“These are the first contractions I’ve had, which means I’m in the early phase of labor so I should have some time to relax.”

“I’m a certified medi-witch, and I specialize in midwifery!” replied the ghost testily. “I’ve had one-hundred-and-four years of experience, and I’m telling you that baby is coming!” Lin was moving toward the table chair to have a seat when her water broke. She ceased to argue and undressed to sit on the birthing chair. The chair felt alien to her, and she now regretted not sitting in it earlier in her pregnancy just to get accustomed to it. Another very strong contraction hit her as she sat.

“The little one’s coming fast,” said the ghost, who stayed far enough away that she didn’t chill Lindsay, but was close enough to observe her.

Lin grabbed her wand and said, “Sanguinem numero.” Two sets of vibrant-blue numbers appeared next to her; one labelled ‘Mother’ and the other labelled ‘Child,’ and both showed the patients’ systolic and diastolic blood pressures as well as their heartrates. A blue light appeared around the baby cradle as it moved from its place next to the bed and settled under the birthing chair. It had been packed for over a month with clean linens. Lin flicked her wand again and said, “Leniter capto.” This spell would catch Niketas and lay him safely in his cradle.

“Well done, dear. My name is Madame Littlefoot, by the way.” Another powerful contraction wracked her body and Lin gripped the arms of the chair tightly. “Control your breathing,” said Littlefoot. Despite the fact that this woman was only a ghost and couldn’t physically help Lin, her presence and the sound of her voice were great comforts. “Take a pain potion, dear. There’s no point in trying to be heroic.” It was good advice that was more sensible than it was kind. Lin couldn’t risk passing out. The pain potion would obviously reduce pain, but it would also keep her alert longer by reducing the fatigue that pain causes.

Lin had the placement of her potions memorized, but she still checked the label on the bottle before she drank it. This wasn’t the standard pain potion used by healers and medi-witches. This potion was used when it was important to relieve pain without causing sleepiness, or reducing awareness, or slowing motor responses. It wasn’t as potent as the standard pain potion, but it would allow Lin to remain alert.  She felt a relaxing warmth spread throughout her body immediately after swallowing the potion. She could still feel the subsequent contractions, but their intensity was greatly reduced. Several more contractions passed, and Lin was getting tired.

“Stay with me, Lindsay. You’re doing very well.” A really strong contraction hit Lin, and she gripped the arms of the chair. “Control your breathing.” An excited smile spread across the ghost’s face. “There’s the little chap’s head! You’re almost there, Lindsay, almost there. Give me another big push…and there he is! Oh, isn’t he beautiful!” The spell Lindsay had cast caught Niketas as his little body approached the cradle, turned him face up, and gently set him down. “Cut the cord, dear,” said Littlefoot as she flipped up the watch that was pinned to her front. “Ten forty-five,” she mumbled. “Now get him cleaned and out of the way before the afterbirth comes.”

Lin’s shaking hand grasped her wand; she pointed it at Niketas’ navel. “Et interficiam ligatum.” The umbilical cord severed and tied itself off. Next she said “Ad trahendum muco involute” to clean all the fluid out of Nikki’s nose, mouth, and throat. Lastly, she used tergeo to clean Nikki’s body and his cradle linens. She set her wand down and a blue light once again enveloped the cradle and slid it back to its place next to the bed. Nikki’s vital signs followed him and two new numbers, Nikki’s weight and length, had appeared.

Nikki was crying and it made Lin smile. Her own baby crying was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard. She was feeling very weak and tired. Her eyes were fixated on Nikki. Madame Littlefoot paced in front of her wearing a concerned expression.

“That’s a little more blood than I like to see. Take some dittany and a blood-replenisher.”

Before Lin could reach for the healing potions, she was wracked with another contraction that seemed much more painful than it should’ve been. She tore her eyes away from Nikki’s cradle and looked at her own feet. The afterbirth was there and so was a large puddle of blood, which was rapidly growing larger.

“The dittany, my dear, the dittany!” cried Littlefoot.

Lin felt dizzy and her vision was rapidly darkening. Her feet and fingers tingled unpleasantly, and simply breathing felt much more laborious than it should have. She heard a distant sound, a percussive sound followed by a small shrill cry. _My baby_! thought Lin. _My baby needs me!_ She forced herself to rouse and opened her eyes to see Littlefoot manically clapping her hands together and shouting at Lin to wake. The noise frightened Nikki, and he cried harder. He certainly had a healthy pair of lungs. Lin, who’d nearly fallen out of her chair, straightened up and turned for the dittany, and it took all of her strength of both body and will to lift her left hand and grasp the small vial. Two drops of dittany was all she needed, as instructed by Littlefoot, and it roused her enough to locate and drink the blood-replenishing potion. Lin immediately felt stronger and more alert.

The ghost approached to look closely at Lin’s face, but didn’t linger because she feared chilling Lindsay too much. Littlefoot gave Lindsay words of encouragement, telling her to relax and breathe deeply. The expired medi-witch waited for Lin’s vital signs to normalize before she allowed her to do anything but relax. “Alright, dear, everything’s looking well. Get yourself cleaned up. I wish I could do it for you.” Lin used scourgify this time to clean herself, the chair, and the floor. “Get in bed, Lindsay, you need rest, and your baby needs to eat.” Lin rose shakily. “Slowly, dear, no rushing.” She climbed into her bed, which never felt more comfortable, and her vital signs followed her. Lin stowed her wand in her pajama top and used her natural magic to lift Nikki out of his cradle and into her arms.

“Are you quite certain there’s no draft near the cradle?” said Littlefoot.

“Yes, I’ve checked several times.”

Lin opened her top to place Nikki at her breast. She smiled as she looked down at her sturdy little bundle. Nikki had wispy black hair and bright-blue eyes. She wasn’t sure just yet who he looked like, but he was long and chubby and reminded her of her brother, Noble’s, baby pictures. Niketas Rubeus Noble, that’s what she’d name him. If a name could affect its bearer’s character, then the name of three good men should ensure that little Niketas would grow to be a man of honor and strength. She cuddled him and patted him until he fell asleep, and still she didn’t want to part with him despite her exhaustion.

“Put the little chap in his cradle before you fall asleep,” said Littlefoot.

With Nikki safely sleeping in his cradle, Lin fell into a fitful sleep and was awakened four hours later by Madame Littlefoot clapping. The kindly ghost was still keeping her distance while keeping a watchful eye on her charges. Lin fed and changed Nikki and rose to wash. Littlefoot wouldn’t allow Lin to clean up until she’d inspected the bedsheets for excessive blood. It wasn’t until Littlefoot was satisfied that Lindsay was on the mend that she allowed her patient to bathe and cook for herself. 


	61. Chapter 61

The two women chatted over breakfast, and Lin was beside herself with joy to have someone to talk to—dead or not. Lindsay sat with a blanket around her shoulders. Madame Littlefoot was at the far end of the room seated on an invisible chair. Their conversation rambled and turned to Nikki’s father.

“It may pain you, my dear,” said Littlefoot, “but for safety’s sake it’s better that the little one doesn’t look too much like his father.”

Lin set down her teacup. “You know Severus?”

“Of course, Albus told me he was the father. I delivered Severus and his mother. They were both very small babies, barely over four pounds, but they were healthy, strong, and full term. Quite a strong resemblance between mother and son too, in more ways than one.”

“What does that mean?”

“They both have the same dour disposition and neither took much of an interest in their children.”

“I never told Severus about Nikki.”

“Dear Merlin, child! Why ever not?”

“Well…um…I suppose it’s safe to tell you.”

“Of course it is. I’m well beyond the reach of magical torture. No one can make me talk if I don’t wish to.”

“Severus is spying on the Death Eaters for Albus. I didn’t want to put him more danger. ”

“Oh, I see. Please don’t think ill of me, my dear, but I’m an old woman and inclined to speak my mind.”

“Quite alright.”

“I may seem old fashioned to you, but I’ve always felt that children should come after the marriage and not before. A strong relationship makes for better parents and more secure children.” Lin didn’t reply; her eyes were downcast. “Have I shamed you, my dear? I assure you that was not my intention.”

“Not at all,” replied Lindsay. “You just reminded me of my parents. They were deeply religious and wouldn’t approve of my current predicament. I’m not ashamed of my son or my love for his father, but it’s difficult to accept that I’ve disgraced the family I love and who loved me.”

“My dear child,” began Littlefoot, “marriage to Severus Snape would’ve been pure idiocy and a death sentence for all three of you. A truly loving family would never support such foolishness regardless of their religious or moral beliefs. I pray that you meet your love again, and that you both make your family proud.”

Lin’s eyes filled with tears. “Thank you, Madame Littlefoot.”

“It’s time you had some rest,” said Littlefoot. “Potions work wonders, but your body still has some healing to do.”

The cottage was more pleasant now that Nikki and Littlefoot were there. Lin was well-healed and Nikki was healthy and alert. Lindsay spent her days chatting with Littlefoot and singing to Nikki. Madame Littlefoot taught her a few nursery rhymes and lullabies.

A month passed and had done so quickly. Lindsay was eating dinner and Littlefoot was pacing and appeared restless.

“Is everything alright, Madame Littlefoot?”

“I’m afraid we need to have a chat, Lin.”

“Sure,” said Lin, setting down her fork. “What’s on your mind?”

“I’ve reached my time limit, dear.”

“Time limit?” repeated Lin.

“When one dies, one is given a choice to either stay here as a ghost or to move on. I chose to move on.”

“But you’re here?”

“Albus gave me a task, and I gave my word that I’d complete it. The powers that be allowed me to come back temporarily. My task is complete, and it’s time for me to go.”

Lin stood and rushed to Littlefoot. “Can’t you stay for just a little while longer?”

Littlefoot shook her head. “Don’t worry, Lin. Your baby is healthy and so are you. You have nothing to fear.” Littlefoot’s body was becoming less distinct and her voice less resonant. “Now listen carefully, Lin. Albus packed a portkey for you. He said you’d know it when you saw it.”

“Where is it?”

“Albus didn’t say.” Littlefoot’s body had become so unclear that she was little more than a faint shadow and her voice so faint it was barely audible. “I’d love to hug you, my dear, but we both know I can’t. You give that precious child of yours a kiss from me.” And she was gone, leaving Lindsay feeling desperately alone. Lin put her hand out to be sure that Littlefoot really was gone. The deathly cold that surrounds ghosts was gone. Lin and Nikki really were alone. The cottage became uncomfortably silent.

Lindsay was totally unprepared for Littlefoot’s departure and the sense of isolation hit her hard. Lin hated being alone, but now she was feeling a different sort of loneliness than she had before. Now she had Nikki to care for and if something happened to her, he’d be totally helpless. Lin paced, ignoring her dinner.

Food supplies were running low and Lindsay dared not visit the Muggle market. Her last Muggle encounter nearly took Nikki’s life. She presumed a solution would present itself in time, so she waited. Another few weeks passed and Lin was becoming restless. Her food supplies were almost gone; she only had enough for two or three days at the most. She had to do something, but didn’t know what. She hadn’t found the portkey yet and didn’t know where it would take her. Albus obviously had a plan, but Lin didn’t know what it was and that made her trepidatious. 

There was one crate of food left, and it was half empty. Lin rummaged through it and was shocked to find potions supplies. The ingredients she found could produce two potions that were difficult to brew and one that was very dangerous to use. _What was Albus thinking?_ Below the pile of potions ingredients lay a small unadorned box tied with a light-blue ribbon. This had to be the portkey Littlefoot spoke of. Albus knew Lin’s favorite color was light blue. Fearing to touch it, Lin used her wand to open the box and there inside sat Lin’s old melted cell phone. The phone had to be the portkey, which meant the box was safe to touch. She put the lid back on the box and carried it to the kitchen table with the potions supplies.

It was late in the evening when Lin finally went to bed. She tossed and turned for a couple of hours before finally falling asleep. The next thing Lin was aware of was a sense of familiarity and a strong feeling of warmth and security. She had the impression of having been transported somewhere, and she opened her eyes to see her new surroundings.

#

Lin was in her library, or rather Mr. Roberts’ library. She smelled the scents of old books and cigar smoke. The wood that surrounded the room was old, dark, and rich-looking. She had the distinct feeling of Mr. Roberts’ presence being nearby.

“Good morning, Lindsay,” came the familiar low voice of Mr. Roberts with his precise diction and cut-glass accent. Lin turned to see him standing straight-backed without the aid of a walking stick. He looked much healthier than he had when she’d known him. Lin flung her arms around him. His body felt solid and strong in her arms, and he smelled like the spicy leather aftershave he wore in his healthier days. Lin drank in the fragrance. He wore his favorite brown sport coat, and it fit him properly. He was so ill when she’d known him that the coat hung loosely on his wasted frame. “Stop touching me, Lindsay. I’m a gentleman.” Mr. Roberts’ sense of humor offended most people, and for good reason, but Lin laughed and released him.

“I’ve missed you so much,” said Lin, her eyes moist with tears.

“And I you,” said Mr. Roberts. “But you have to let me go, Lindsay. I lived a long and happy life. While it’s true that disease took me away, time would’ve done so too.”

“Let you go?” repeated Lin. “Do you want me to forget I ever knew you.”

“I want you to move on with your own life and stop worrying about dead snobs like me.”

“I can’t shut off my feelings like a light switch, and I won’t give up my memories,” said Lin with pleasant-voiced defiance.

“That’s my girl,” said Roberts with a grin. “I miss arguing with you, Lindsay, but there’s something I miss even more.” Roberts pointed to the chessboard in the corner of the room. “Care for a game?” They moved to sit at the table, and Mr. Roberts set the pieces on the chessboard, giving Lindsay the white pieces and the black for himself.

“I play black,” said Lin.

“I know,” replied Mr. Roberts. Lindsay hated making the first move. She much preferred to react to action rather than instigate it. A few moves into the game and it was obvious that her mind just wasn’t in it.

“Oh, do try harder,” scolded Mr. Roberts as he took one of her knights.

“Sorry, I’m preoccupied.”  

“About?”

“I have to leave the cottage I’ve been staying in, and I’m afraid to do it.”

“Afraid to leave a cottage? Women can be such silly creatures.”

“You don’t understand. There’s a war coming and if I go home, I’ll have to fight in it. I can’t fight in a war. I’m not a soldier.”

“There are no soldiers, Lindsay, only people; some are good, some are bad, and many are both of those things. No one with any humanity wants to fight in a war.”

“You did. You volunteered for it. You told me so.”

“Yes, I did, but I was young, idealistic, and foolish. I was too young to fully understand the nature of war. I, like many others, did what I had to do and so will you. You gave Albus your word, and you’re going to keep it.”

“You know Albus Dumbledore?”

“Yes, he’s quite an interesting fellow, extraordinarily intelligent. But I must admit that his fascination with knitting patterns distresses me.”

“I have a baby now, Mr. Roberts.”

“I know and a fine little chap he is. He has his mother’s lovely blue eyes. I assume he inherited the black hair from his father.”

“You’ve seen him? How did you know?”

“You told me yourself, dear.”

“You can hear me?”

“How could I not? You pester me perpetually.” Lindsay began to cry. “Stop that! You women are merciless. Have you any idea what tears do to a man?” Lindsay collected herself and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “I’m very grateful that you didn’t name the little chap after me. I’d hate to see another poor child afflicted with that dreadful name.”

“I like Matthew; it’s a nice name.”

“The problem with being named Matthew is that everyone calls you Matt, as in doormat, or floor mat, or bath mat...”

“I have nowhere to send Nikki that’s safe. There’s no one to take him.”

“Let us hypothesize for a moment. In the mind of this Voldemort character, your son is the product of an illicit affair between a wizard and a Muggle—I believe that’s the correct term.”

“Yes, it is.”

“If this person succeeds in his plans, will there then be a safe place for your son?”

“No,” said Lin softly.

“Well then, I believe your path is clear.”

“It’s not so clear to me.”

“You think I’ve accumulated a vast amount of wisdom because of my great age, and that I can give you choices that don’t exist. The only difference between you and I—aside from the fact that you’re much prettier than me—is that I’ve already made a large number of stupid selfish mistakes that you haven’t yet made. I learned from some and not from others, but then I am a very stubborn man.”

“I don’t know what to do, Mr. Roberts.”

“Yes, you do; you just don’t want to do it. You have two choices, Lindsay, keep your word or break it.” Roberts reached across the board and declared, “Checkmate!”

“Well played,” said Lin.

“Not by you, I’m afraid,” retorted Roberts. “Turn around while I set up the board again.”

“Why do I have to turn around? Are you going to sabotage the board?” laughed Lin.

“Indulge me.”

Lin turned and waited for Mr. Roberts to call her. “This is taking an awfully long time. Did you drop some of the pieces?” There was no reply. “Mr. Roberts? Hello?” Lin turned around to see an empty chair and an empty chessboard, save for a single white queen sitting in the center of it. “Not funny!” she shouted. Lin rose to exit the room, but found that there were no doors. The room was completely sealed. It was then that she realized she’d been dreaming. It was just a dream, just a pleasant palliative.

#

Lin’s eyes snapped open. She rolled over to look at Nikki still asleep in his cradle. Something small fell off the bed and clattered to the floor. Lin extended her hand and a faint blue light extended from her hand and drew a small thin object to her. It was a chess piece, a white queen. Lin’s chest tightened. What she’d experienced had been real. She now understood what Mr. Roberts had really meant when he said he knew Albus. Lindsay sobbed. Albus had died, and she didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. All hope was lost without him. Her deep sobs woke Nikki who cried with her. Lindsay immediately regained control of herself. Snivelling wasn’t going to change anything, and it wasn’t going to protect Nikki. She picked him up and consoled him until he settled. She fed him, cleaned him, and spent extra time cuddling with him. She settled him back in his cradle and went to work.

“I wish your daddy were here, Nikki,” said Lin to her sleeping baby. “He’d reprimand me for making wishes because only actions produce results, but I still wish he were here.”  

She worked quickly and diligently; all the time hearing Severus’ voice in her mind telling her to focus on the brewing. She must prepare the ingredients with precision. She must filter out all distractions. Lindsay divorced her emotions from her conscious mind and packed them away, just as Severus had taught her. She had work to do and sentimentality would only hinder her.

With the potions finished and tested for purity with some deft wand-work, Lin set about packing. She had her old book bag with her and filled it with supplies, careful to only pack necessities. She’d leave most of her belongings here in the cottage. If she survived the war, she’d return to collect them. It was evening now and time to leave. Lin slipped the twin to Severus’ amulet into the front pocket of her jeans and turned to Nikki. Now she had to do the one thing she dreaded the most.

Lin lifted her sleeping son. She had prepared a dropper with breast milk mixed with a single drop of Draught of Living Death, hoping the potion would be diluted enough for use on an infant. She squeezed out a single drop onto Nikki’s lips. His little body immediately froze into a state of suspended animation. He appeared dead. The potion worked perfectly.

“May God forgive me,” whispered Lin.

Lin slipped a string tied to a small vial of the Wiggenweld potion around Nikki’s neck. She then pinned a note to his blanket with instructions on how to use the potion to wake Nikki if someone were to find him. Along with the instructions, Lin had written: _My name is Niketas Rubeus Noble. I’m an orphan. Please give me to my godparents, Rubeus Hagrid and Minerva McGonagall._ She transfigured her bedsheet into a sling and charmed it black, hoping the dark color would serve as camouflage. She settled Nikki into the slung and slipped it around her neck and shoulders so that Nikki lay on her chest. She grabbed her bag and reached for the portkey.   


	62. Chapter 62

The Caterwauling Charm had been called off by the time Lindsay arrived in Hogsmeade because Harry Potter was already at Hogwarts and the battle was underway. The portkey dropped Lindsay in the alley where she’d first met a vagrant named Itzal Grace. It was quite dark, and she could hear the sounds of battle coming from the school; wand blasts, yells and screams, and a variety of roaring and growling of magical creatures. Lin’s blood went cold, but she was determined to press on. She had to find a way to get to the school unnoticed. She was in an enclosed alley and had only one direction to go. As she stepped forward, her shoulder bag snagged on a trash can and toppled it over. The can hit the ground with an audible “Oomph!” and an assortment of valuable items rolled out of it.

“Mr. Grace,” whispered Lin, “what are you doing in a garbage can?”

“Hidin’ from the mob,” replied the old wizard as he climbed out of the trash can and scrambled to his feet with surprising agility.

“Have you been looting?”

“What?” said Grace, affronted. “Me a thief? These are heirlooms. I’m just keepin’ ‘em from the Snatchers. Bunch o’ thieves, that lot.”

“Okay, I don’t have time to chat. I have to get to Hogwarts—”

“ _To_ Hogwarts?” repeated Grace. “Are you mad? There’s a war goin’ on.”

“Please, Mr. Grace, I have to get to the school, and I need a safe place for my baby—”

“Oh, no!” said Grace, shaking his head vigorously. “I’ll not take responsibility for a baby.”

“I can’t take him into a battle.”

“You’re on your on.”

“Please, help me.”

Grace looked her over and said, “I remember the kindness you paid me, young lady. And because o’ that I’ll help you get into Hogwarts safely, but that’s all I’ll do. Understand?”

“Fair enough.”

Grace extended his arm for Lindsay to take. He apparated her to the backside of Madam Puddifoot’s tea shop. “Puddifoot’s got a nice little garden back here,” said Grace as he pointed his wand at the latch on the garden gate. “It’s not open to the public.” The garden was small and consisted mostly of pink and white rose bushes and a variety of cherub statues. Grace went straight to the largest cherub in the garden. He tapped his wand against a corn on the cherub’s foot, and it squealed “Ouch!” as it grabbed its foot and jumped to one side revealing an underground stone staircase. “Ladies first,” said Grace.

Lin was less trusting than she’d been when she’d first met Itzal Grace, but she had no choice but to trust that he was helping her. She descended the dusty old staircase, and Grace descended behind her with his wand lighting the way. She stood on the last step and could go no farther because the tunnel, although quite wide, was completely caved in. Lin immediately thought that she’d made a terrible mistake.      

“This used to be clear,” said Grace, “until Dumbledore caved it in.”

“He purposely collapsed the tunnel?”

“Aye, he did. I didn’t think much of it at the time. Dumbledore was an odd man. But in light of recent events, it was a clever thing to do. A small army could convene down ‘ere, and the tunnel leads straight to Hogwarts’ fourth floor.”  

“Why did you bring me here if the tunnel is impassable?”

“Raised by Muggles, were you?”

“Uh, yes.”

“It’s all too obvious. Dumbledore charmed it so I could meet with ‘im privately.”

Lin smiled. “You’re an informant?”

“I am no such thing! But I am inclined to share a bit o’ gossip now and again as any sociable person would.”

“Will the charm work? I mean, Albus is gone.”

“Some magic dies with the wizard, that’s for certain; but it depends on the charm and the wizard. When Albus Dumbledore charms somethin’, the charm sticks.” Grace stood on his toes and reached as high as he was able. He tapped a small stone and said, “Turkish Delight.”  

The rubble in the center of the tunnel began to roll and disappear into the great mass of debris, revealing a high-ceilinged narrow pathway.

“This is as far as I go, young lady.” Lindsay thanked him and turned away. Grace caught her arm. “If we meet again, know that I’ll protect my own hide at all costs. Understand?”

“I understand, Mr. Grace.”

The two parted ways and Lindsay jogged along the tunnel. She slowed her pace when she heard battle sounds as she knew she was close to the tunnel’s end. She took time to steel her mind against whatever she might encounter once she entered Hogwarts proper. She envied Severus’ ability to compartmentalize his emotions. She secured her shoulder bag before stepping into the hallway. She didn’t want another accident like what had happened in the Hogsmeade alley. Itzal Grace had been forgiving and helpful. Lindsay doubted anyone at Hogwarts would be. They probably all thought her a traitor and wouldn’t be gentle with her if she crossed them.

Lin slowly shifted the mirror that blocked the passage and poked her head out. There was so much noise that it was impossible to tell if others were nearby. Instead of trying to sneak out and hope no one would see her, she bi-located and her second-self ran to one end of the hallway. There was a pack of Death Eaters being held off by a group of students led by Professor Sprout. Lin had only one way to go. She jumped out from behind the mirror and bolted to the other end of the corridor. A great blast outside took out some of the wall and nearly knocked Lindsay off her feet.

Seconds later two Dementors flew in, spotting her instantly. Lin closed her eyes as they rounded on her. Severus could do this with his eyes open and often reprimanded her for not doing the same, citing that the enemy should always be held in one’s field of view whenever possible. But Lindsay wasn’t Severus and Dementors terrified her. The only way she could totally divorce all emotion from her conscious mind was to focus while keeping her eyes closed.

The Dementors stopped in mid-flight. To them, Lin had instantly disappeared from sight. Collecting her emotions and sending them to the dark recesses of her mind made her invisible to them. They felt around the area where she’d been standing, and they even touched her several times, but were unable to see or sense her so they moved on.

Lin opened her eyes when she felt the cold of the Dementors move away. She had to make it to the third floor. She held Nikki tightly and ran as fast as she could. She gripped her wand tightly in her left hand; within seconds she was using it to deflect incoming spells. The attacking spells were coming so fast she couldn’t follow all of them. She kept running and hoped her natural defenses would be enough to protect her. She did absorb some of the spells that hit her; a few of them hit her really hard, and she knew she didn’t have the skill or power to duel the wizards that dealt them. Lin pressed on and told herself not to look back.

The staircase to the third floor was in sight. Lin heard shouting behind her and the spells flying at her stopped. She didn’t look back to see who had intervened. The voices sounded young, so probably students. The staircase was moving and only half of it was intact. Lin ran down the stairs and leapt onto a passing staircase that was taking her in the wrong direction. She leapt onto another and followed it to the third floor. She ran down the hall to the badly damaged gargoyle guarding the headmaster’s staircase, and it offered her polite greeting.

“As long as the heart beats, the body may live,” said Lin, and the gargoyle moved aside.

Lin jumped onto the Headmaster’s circular staircase and descended into the crystal chamber far below Hogwarts’ foundation. The heat was unbearable, worse than she remembered, but she was frightened and had been running which heightened her sensitivity to the oppressive temperature and humidity in the cavern. She ran to the place Albus had shown her and laid her precious cargo on the floor of the crystal chamber. Lin was grateful that Nikki was impervious to the heat in his current state. Still trying to catch her breath, she placed her hands on the giant crystal and focused on finding Harry Potter, but it was Severus she desperately wanted to find.

Lindsay could feel Hogwarts’ energy drawing downward away from the severely damaged castle. The school was trying to protect itself; trying to conserve energy until the battle ended and the rebuilding could begin. The damage to the castle was vast and almost unbearable to witness, but Lin had a task to perform and pressed on. She found Harry, accompanied by Ron and Hermione, exiting the castle and sprinting across the grounds. A group of Dementors descended on them, but were run off by a small group of students.

There was nothing Lin could do to aid the trio, who quickly ran away from the castle and out of Lindsay’s sight. Lin next searched for Severus, but couldn’t locate him. He too must be far from the castle. She turned her attention to Fred, but couldn’t find him until she located George, who was kneeling over his twin’s mangled body and sobbing piteously. She felt a terrible stab in her heart and nearly lost the drive to continue, but pressed on out of love for Albus, who’d done so much to help and protect her. She was determined not to let him down.  

Hagrid was nowhere to be found, and it was impossible to locate Remus. Lin was hopeful that he was far from the fighting until she stumbled across Neville, who was pulling a blanket over Remus’ face that had somehow been pulled away. The body next to Remus was obviously Tonks’; bubblegum pink hair peaked out from under the blanket that covered her face. Lin heard Minerva’s voice shouting instructions and offering pep talks; she was rallying her troops and offering them all the strength she had. Neville had a drink of water and ran off to re-join the battle.

Lin could take no more and pulled her hands away from the crystal. What was she to do? Her task was to protect Harry, but she could hardly do that when she couldn’t even locate him. Most of the people she’d come to love were already dead, and worse still, they died believing her to be a traitor. The ones that still lived thought no better of her. And where was Severus? Lin had never felt so useless or so helpless.

The heat was becoming unbearable and Lin felt weak and ill. Hogwarts sensed her distress and produced a cool breeze, but that cool dry air was a short-lived pleasure because it was damaging to the crystal formation that thrived in hot humid conditions. Lin pulled a large empty vial from her bag and used aguamenti to fill it several times with water. She poured some of the water over her head in a futile effort to combat the oppressive heat. She checked Nikki and didn’t see any change in him, not that she’d expected any. Lin sat down to rest and collect her thoughts. She debated whether she should take Nikki up to Minerva or Molly.

Several minutes had passed; Lin wasn’t sure how many because the heat and her anxiety were working hard against her senses. Lin felt a slight vibration in her pocket where she kept the amulet she’d made, and with the vibration came an overwhelming sense of dread. The amulet was trying to pull her somewhere, but she was afraid to leave. She’d been instructed to stay here, and Albus obviously knew quite a bit more than she. Her only solution was to bi-locate and send her second-self to follow the amulet’s pull, but she had no idea how safe it would be or even if she could maintain a second presence over an unknown distance.

Lin appeared in an unfamiliar room mired in dust and scattered with broken furniture. She caught a glimpse of the back of Harry Potter as he exited the room. Severus lay at her feet in a huge pool of coagulating blood, enough blood to account for most of what should be in his body. She knelt next to him and felt his wrist for a pulse. He was dead, but his body was still warm. There was no time to lose. She unbuttoned his robes to get at his chest and to get a better look at his neck. His injuries were horrendous. The dittany she rummaged for in her bag could heal deep lacerations and burns, but it couldn’t rebuild a crushed larynx or broken hyoid bone.

A faint blue light emanated from Lin’s hands and softly illuminated Severus’ neck and shoulders. Her second-self was already weakening and becoming less visible. Lin was using an enormous amount of energy trying to bi-locate across such a long distance. She healed what she could and let the dittany do the rest as she dropped it onto Severus’ wounds. She spelled a blood-replenishing potion into his stomach and searched his robes for an anti-venom to counteract Nagini’s bites. Severus kept a vial of anti-venom in an expandable brown-leather pouch and another in a pocket of his robes. She found the vial in his robes and spelled it into his stomach. Neither potion would do anything until there was life in Severus’ body.

Lin placed one hand on Severus’ chest and the other on the side of his ribcage and released a jolt of energy hoping it would revive his heart into beating. If she succeeded in restarting his heart, there’d be a chance of his having a stroke due to blood loss. She hoped the blood-replenishing potion worked before any damage related to blood loss could occur. Aiding his body in reviving itself was the easy part. Calling Severus back to his body was the true challenge. She located him, but sensed that he was already very far away, and he wasn’t responding to her calls.


	63. Chapter 63

#

Severus stayed awake as long as he could. His body was steadily getting weaker; his arms and legs were cold and tingled painfully. He knew he was bleeding out and had only seconds left to live. Even without the restraint of Nagini’s magical cage, he was much too weak to reach into his pocket to retrieve her anti-venom. He’d lost so much blood that the anti-venom likely wouldn’t work anyway. He’d wasted all his energy giving Potter the instructions he desperately needed.

Breathing was difficult and Severus’ chest hurt badly. Large, anxious, emerald-green eyes looked into Severus’ exhausted black ones. In an instant, the green eyes were gone and the pain in his body went with them. Severus felt very light. He had no conscious awareness of having travelled, yet he knew he was somewhere else, somewhere far from the Shrieking Shack. Someone was touching his shoulder. It was the light gentle touch of a small hand. 

“Sev…look at me, Sev.”

Severus felt like he’d been sleeping. His eyes felt heavy. He thought he could hear a distant voice; it sounded so familiar.

“Sev, open your eyes.”

Large, loving, emerald-green eyes were the first things he saw. Severus was stunned. It couldn’t be her. He must be dreaming. There’s no other way that Lily could be kneeling next to him in exactly the pose that young Potter had taken. She looked exactly the same as he remembered her; vibrant, young, and very much alive. She hadn’t aged at all, not that he would’ve cared if she had.

“Lily? Is it really you?”

“Of course it’s me, silly,” replied Lily as she took his hand and guided him to his feet. “It’s so good to see you, Sev.”

Severus wrapped her in a crushing embrace. He’d forgotten how much smaller she was than he. He had to bend down a little to hold her.

“Thank you, Sev, for protecting my Harry. I couldn’t be more grateful.”

Severus wanted to tell her how much he loved her, how much he’d longer for her, but all he could manage to say was, “I’m so sorry, Lily.” Lily released him and tried to step back, but he held her even more tightly.

“You don’t belong here, Sev.”

Severus thought he was being rejected again and wasn’t above begging for Lily’s favor. “No, Lily, please don’t say that. Please let me stay with you.” He felt himself being tugged backwards and suddenly there was another voice; distant, muffled, and desperate-sounding.

“It’s not your time, Sev. You have to let me go.”

“No, Lily, no…!” Severus tried to hold on, but couldn’t. He felt himself being pulled away. He reached for Lily. She smiled and reached out, her face beaming with love, but it wasn’t him she was reaching for. A figure appeared next her; it was James Potter. Severus went limp; his mind ceased to fight, and he let the distant voice take him away to Merlin knows where.

The distant voice rapidly came nearer as Severus slammed onto something hard and cold. His entire body screamed in agony. He tried to open his eyes, but was met with a painful, blinding, white light. He closed his eyes and drifted into blackness.

#

Lin wouldn’t be able to maintain her second-self much longer. She had to get Severus back to Hogwarts. Lin had stabilized him just enough to keep him alive for a short time, and hopefully get a healer to properly tend to his devastating wounds. Severus was in no condition to be apparated, but Lin had no choice. She’d done side-long apparation with Albus, but had never used her second-self to apparate anyone. Obviously, Hogwarts’ anti-apparation enchantment didn’t inhibit her capacity to bi-locate, and Lin assumed her ability was similar to a house-elf’s unrestricted ability to apparate to and from the school and anywhere inside the castle. Apparating Severus would be another matter.

The overwhelming heat in the crystal chamber was too much to take and Lin began to swoon. Her second-self disappeared momentarily. Hogwarts sensed her distress and produced more cool air to revive her. Lin immediately bi-located again. It was now or never. She took hold of Severus’ hand and focused on drawing her two selves together. The enchantment didn’t block her, and she didn’t question why. She laid Severus next to Nikki. His wounds had already re-opened, and he began to seizure. His bodied shuddered violently, making blood gush from his neck. Nagini’s venom was incredibly potent.

Lin spelled a second, and her last, blood-replenisher into Severus’ stomach. Her vision blurred and her fingers fumbled as she searched for and opened Severus’ leather pouch to get another vial of anti-venom, which she also spelled into his stomach. Severus settled, his breathing became even, but he didn’t wake. Lin was so overheated that she knew she wouldn’t make it out of the chamber and carrying two extra bodies ensured her failure. She had to call for help. Lin moved to other side of the chamber. Putting a little distance between herself and the others would help her focus, theoretically at least.

Once again, Lin placed her hands on the giant crystal. Minerva would be the ideal contact, but Hogwarts kept steering Lin to Remus and Tonks. A quick examination of their bodies revealed no damage. They must’ve been taken down by the Killing Curse. It was relatively easy to pulse energy into them and start their organs functioning again. Remus groaned and shivered; his body was hypothermic, but otherwise healthy. Tonks woke a second later. They’d need no more than a days’ bedrest. Someone shouted and several people ran to them. Poppy Pomfrey was just a step behind and instantly began shouting instructions to the other medi-witches and charmed the blankets that lay over them to warm their shivering bodies.

Lin was much too exhausted to do what she did next. She examined Fred’s cold and mangled body. There was so much damage. She should’ve left him in peace, but was compelled to contact his spirit and explain the situation. She couldn’t heal him properly, and he’d be in terrible pain once she revived him. But with Poppy’s skill and speedy intervention, he had a strong chance of survival. Fred agreed without hesitation to give it a try. Fred was game for anything.

Fred’s ribcage was crushed as was his pelvis. The damage was too severe for brackium emendo to heal him fully, but it would be enough to get him breathing again. There was a vast amount of soft tissue damage. Lin healed just enough to allow acceptable blood flow and respiration before jolting his body back to life.

George, who couldn’t be coaxed away from his brother, was the first to spot a very faint blue light engulfing his twin’s body underneath the blanket that covered his face and most of his lifeless form. “What’s this? What’s going on?” No one had a chance to respond. Fred’s body jerked and he inhaled a gurgling rasping breath. The pain was extraordinary and he immediately began moaning and choking on blood. “Madame Pomfrey!” shouted George in a panic. “Madame Pomfrey, come quickly!”

Poppy rushed to George’s side and with a few swishes of her wand, had Fred quieted and breathing with the aid of a portable magical respirator. Her medical bag zoomed over the heads of onlookers, and she began rifling through it as she shouted for the other medi-witches to assist her. “Away, all of you!’ shouted Poppy to the growing crowd of bystanders. “We need space to work!”

Lin’s knees were beginning to buckle. Blood streamed down her nostrils onto her face and chest. Hogwarts was slowing pulling away from her, trying to sever the connection she had with it. Lin was close to death. Because of Hogwarts’ innate benevolence, it was trying to help her by making her conserve energy. Lin had one last thing to do.

Neville Longbottom stood next to Professor McGonagall watching the medi-witches bustle about Fred. “Very peculiar,” muttered McGonagall, more to herself than to Longbottom.

“Have you ever seen anything like this before?” said Neville.

“Never,” replied McGonagall. She turned to see Longbottom swatting at the air and tersely said, “What are you doing, Longbottom?”

“There’s a lavender bumblebee buzzing about my head.”

“What? There’s no such thing—” As McGonagall’s eye fell on the large lavender bee, it turned into a red beating heart and disappeared.

“What in Merlin’s beard…?” said Neville.

“Come with me, Longbottom,” said McGonagall and she set off as fast as she could for the Headmaster’s office.

“Where are we going, Professor?”

“Somewhere you’re not supposed to be.”

#

Neville stepped off the spiral staircase behind McGonagall. “I had no idea it went down.”

“What goes up must come down, Mr. Longbottom. And I’ll thank you not to share this with anyone.”

“My lips are sealed, Professor. But why are we here?”

“I don’t know yet, so keep your wand drawn.”

Minerva and Neville rounded on the large crystal chamber. Minerva saw Severus’ body, but she knew him to be dead and paid him no mind. The small unmoving bundle next to him appeared to be nothing more than a swaddling of blankets. Lindsay sat slumped on the opposite side of the chamber; her connection with the crystal severed by Hogwarts itself. Minerva leveled her wand at Lin.

“Traitor!”

“Go ahead, Minerva,” said Lin weakly. “I don’t have any juice left.”

Neville crouched down to feel for a pulse, but Snape’s neck was too mangled to touch. He laid his hand on Snape’s bared chest, but couldn’t feel a heartbeat. As Neville reached for the blankets, a glint caught his eye and he pulled the blankets apart to reveal Nikki, whom he thought was dead, with a potion vial tied to a string around his neck. Of all the horrors Neville had witnessed, a dead baby was by far the worst. He unfolded the accompanying note to read it. Neville steadied his shaking hand and placed a single drop of Wiggenweld Potion on the baby’s lips. Nikki immediately stirred to life; his bright-blue eyes blinked open and Neville was beside himself with joy. 

“Professor?”

“Not now, Longbottom!” growled Minerva.

“Minerva!” commanded Neville, and McGonagall’s head turned to him; her acid-tongued retort was silenced by the sound of a baby crying. Neville’s shout had frightened Nikki. “Your godson needs you, Professor.”

“I…godson?”

“His name is Niketas,” said Neville as he placed the squirmy fussing bundle in Minerva’s arms.

“Albus hid us, Minerva.”

“Please forgive me, Lin.”

“No harm, no foul, Minerva, just please get us out of here. Severus needs Poppy.”

“Let’s get them out of this hellish heat, Mr. Longbottom,” said Minerva as she pulled Nikki’s blankets away from him and folded them under his chubby little body. She flicked her wand and levitated Severus out of the chamber. Neville knelt next to Lin.

“It’s so good to see you, Neville. You’ve grown so much.”

“I never doubted you, Lin.”

“Thank you.” Neville took her arm to help her up, but Lin stopped him. “I don’t think I can walk.”

“Not a problem.” Neville stood and said, “Mobilicorpus.” Lin’s body rose up as though she was standing, but her feet were inches off the ground. Neville swished his wand and Lin turned backwards in a more horizontal position. Neville held her hand. The last thing Lin saw was Neville smiling down at her.

Voices milling in and around the Great Hall began whispering and murmuring to each other. “Is that a baby crying? Does anyone else hear a baby?”

Minerva’s step was sprightly as she brought Severus’ unconscious and bleeding body to Poppy, who left Fred in the care of the other medi-witches as she turned to Severus. Neville laid Lindsay next to him. Poppy assigned a medi-witch to tend Lindsay while she worked to stabilize Severus. Neville lingered, just out of the way, ready to help if needed. Minerva guided the growing crowd of curious onlookers away from the medi-witches.  

“My godson,” said Minerva proudly to all and sundry. “Would someone please fetch Hagrid? He needs to meet his godson.” The crowd _ooh_ -ed and _ahh_ -ed at every sound and every movement the baby made as Minerva fed him. All the death, destruction, and despair of the previous hours were temporarily wiped from everyone’s minds as they focused on the obliviousness of an innocent new life and symbol of a future that was not only possible, but waiting to be reached.


	64. Chapter 64

#

Lin was kept overnight in St. Mungo’s for observation; she suffered from exhaustion, but was otherwise well. It took three days for Severus to open his eyes, though he was entirely unresponsive. In another three days, he was capable of moving and could even stand, but he didn’t speak or respond to stimuli. The healers wanted him kept permanently in St Mungo’s. Lindsay, of course, wanted to take him home, but had no legal right to do so and Severus hadn’t any living relatives. Harry’s good standing with Kingsley Shacklebolt allowed for some rule-bending. Shacklebolt convinced the healers to relinquish Severus into Lindsay’s care, although a medi-witch came daily to check on him.

Harry stood silently in the open doorway of Lindsay’s bedroom. The pale shell of a man that was Severus Snape lay on a chaise lounge and Lindsay sat on a chair next to him attempting to feed him. She looked exhausted and careworn. Snape’s hair was cut very short making it easier for Lindsay to keep him neat and clean. Harry thought the short hair brought an unnerving austerity to the man’s sharp sunken features. Harry knocked on the doorjamb.

“Hi, Harry, please come in.”

“Am I interrupting?”

“No, not at all.” Lindsay set down a small bowl of soft food that Molly had made onto a tray that stood next to the chaise. Molly had been making a variety of different dishes trying to entice Severus to eat more. Lin had barely set the bowl on the tray and Severus spit out what she’d tried to feed him. Lin picked up a towel from the stack of clean ones that lay on the tray to wipe Severus’ face and chest.

“Let me,” said Harry as he retrieved his wand from his pocket. “Scourgify.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

“It’s nothing. I suppose your magic still hasn’t come back?”

“Not yet.”

“It will once you’ve gotten some rest.” Harry lied. He didn’t know if her magic would come back. He didn’t even know it could leave. As far as Harry knew, a person was either magical or not magical and there was nothing in between. He pulled a small vial filled with a silvery substance from his pocket and handed it to Lindsay. “These are his memories. I thought he’d like them back.”

“Thank you. Please sit, Harry, you don’t have to hover.”

Harry sat on a large chest with an upholstered top that stood at the foot of Lindsay’s bed. Lindsay’s bedroom was bright, cheerful, and very feminine; too feminine for Harry’s tastes and he found himself suddenly appreciative that Ginny wasn’t quite this girly. He was mystified that someone as insanely jolly as Lindsay could enjoy the company of someone as grim as Severus Snape. “His neck isn’t fully healed yet?”

“Oh, it is. The Healers said he’s not in any pain. He just refuses to eat.”

“Oh,” replied Harry, not quite sure what to say. “Did they say when he’ll start talking and walking about again?”

“He can walk. He wanders off sometimes. Minerva charmed the stairs and the windows so he doesn’t hurt himself. But the talking…well, nobody really knows. The healers said he might come to his senses and he might not, but there’s no timeframe. St. Mungo’s specialists don’t know if it’s a side effect of Nagini’s venom, or if he’s suffering from psychological trauma.”

“He is the most stubborn, most determined person I’ve ever met,” said Harry. “He’ll come back to you.” Harry lied again, but it just felt like the right thing to say. Lindsay was uncharacteristically quiet. “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” began Harry with some apprehension as he wasn’t sure if this was the right time to ask her. “What part did Dumbledore give you in all of this?”

“I was a failsafe.”

“Yet another bodyguard for me then,” said Harry sourly.

“Albus meant well, Harry.”

“I admired him, you know. I practically worshipped him.”

“But now you’re grown-up and realize that Albus was a flawed man. Perfection is too much to lay on anyone’s shoulders, Harry.”

“Don’t misunderstand me, Lindsay. I still admire Albus Dumbledore. It’s just a bitter pill to swallow knowing that I was raised and manipulated for a singular purpose.”

“If I had continued living as a Muggle and you had enjoyed your schooldays just like any other student, this war still would’ve happened. Albus knew Voldemort was going to return to power, and he knew he was nearing the end of his life. Without his leadership we would’ve been nothing but a hopeless rabble trying to fight a wizard that outclassed all of us. Albus manipulated us because he had to. He gave us the tools to defeat Voldemort, and he gave all of us the best possible chances for survival. He did his best, Harry.”

“Yeah,” said Harry with a great wide smile slowly spreading across his face. “Yeah, he did.” Harry stood. “I’ll let you get back to—oh, did you know Fred’s been asking for you?”

“Yes, I just haven’t mustered the courage to see him.”

“Why not?”

Lin shrugged. “You know what everyone thought about me.”

“Not Fred and George; they defended you to the last.”

Lin smiled. “And what about you? Did you think me a traitor?”

“Didn’t think much about it, really. I had other things on my mind.”

“I suppose you did.” Both Lindsay and Harry turned their attention to the doorway as Fred’s voice came bellowing from the hallway.

“If she won’t come to me, I’ll go to her.”

Fred had been released from St. Mungo’s on the same day as Severus. He was mobile but needed a crutch, which he kept dropping in favor of leaning on George, much to Molly’s irritation. His broken body would never be what it once was, but he would continue to heal and would lead a normal life—or, at least, Fred’s equivalent of normal. George was more somber than Lindsay had ever seen him. He still smiled, and joked, and laughed, but there was a realization in him that life is fragile, and his time with Fred and the rest of his family and loved ones was short. He stayed physically closer to Fred than he ever had before, and had become wary and watchful. By contrast, Fred was more cheerful and reckless than ever.

The twins, along with Remus and Tonks, entered the room. Fred and George entered boldly. Remus and Tonks stood back a little and waited for an invitation to enter. George forgave Lindsay on the spot. He even congratulated her for managing to be wily, and credited himself and Fred for teaching her to be more cunning.

“I’m sorry I doubted you, Lin,” said Remus.

Lin flung her arms around him. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“I was the one who talked to Dumbledore about you.”

“I may have said a thing or two, myself,” said Tonks sheepishly.

“It’s all water under the bridge,” said Lin as she released Remus and embraced Tonks.

Fred stayed back until he was the last person to speak to Lin. She looked at him hopefully, full of anxiety and regret. When Fred finally spoke to her, his tone was cold and his face stern. “I have only one thing to say to you.” He tilted his head toward Severus. “So is he a vampire or not?”

“No,” laughed Lindsay as she embraced him. “He’s just skinny and pale.”

“So where is this baby I’ve been told about? Mum wouldn’t let me see him because she thinks I’m too weak to hold him. What does she know?”

“He’s in his bassinet, over there.”

George steered Fred into a chair and settled Nikki into Fred’s arms, which were braced against the chair’s arms. Despite his protestations, Fred knew his mother was right. George hovered closely with one hand on Nikki in case Fred’s arms slipped.

“He’s got my strong chin,” said Fred.

“And my dashing good looks,” replied George.

Tonks and Remus sat on the upholstered chest. Harry had already slipped out of the room.

“Remus and I were wondering what you did,” said Tonks softly. “No one’s been able to explain it to us.”

“It was nothing,” replied Lin. “Just a knack for healing. Albus helped me develop my skills.”

“We were hit with the Killing Curse, Lin,” said Remus. “No one can be revived from that.”

“That spell doesn’t do any physical damage; it just simultaneously stops all organ and brain function and the curse dissipates once the target is dead. You had no damage to heal, and you weren’t dead for very long so it was relatively easy to get things started again. I discharged energy into your bodies. It’s sort of similar to Muggle defibrillation, but not exactly. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Remus leaned over Tonks to get closer to Lin and whispered, “It would be wise not to tell anyone exactly what you did. You could attract unwanted attention.”

“Albus already warned me.”

“And did he tell you how incredibly rare and sought after your ability is?” said Remus.

“Yes, he did.”

“I don’t care how you did it,” said Tonks. “I’m just grateful that you did. Remus and I will be able to see our Teddy grow up.”

“Mum should have dinner ready soon,” said George. “Are you going to join us?”

“I’d love to, but I have to stay with Severus.”

“George and I will take the Gi—I mean, the love of your life downstairs,” said Fred.

“Maybe we’ll annoy him enough to give us a detention.”

“Good times, George, good times,” said Fred.

George helped Fred to his feet. Tonks carried Nikki, and Remus levitated Severus out of the room. The dining room had been magically enlarged to accommodate two more dining tables. The house was bustling with survivors; some had been released from St. Mungo’s, but weren’t ready to be on their own, some just didn’t want to be alone, and others had nowhere to go. Remus transfigured a serving cart into a couch and laid Severus down. Dinner was a pleasant affair, but generally subdued as people were still coming to grips with the nightmares they’d witnessed.

A lively house crowded with people was a comfort to Lin, who very much enjoyed the company of others. All the noise and activity gave her a sense of security. But slowly the number of houseguests dwindled as they each found their way home and settled back into the routines of their lives. A small number of veterans convened on a weekly basis under the guise of staying connected, but were really seeking the comfort of familiar faces who understood their sorrows and burdens. The get-togethers started out with a hearty meal, choice desserts, and plenty of laughter and singing, but they always ended with tales of the war and remembrances of the many who had lost their lives in the pursuit of freedom.


	65. Chapter 65

Six weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, a small intimate group of friends gathered in Lindsay’s home. Some would be staying the night, but most would be going back to their own homes after the evening’s festivities. Private homes had been rebuilt, businesses re-opened, and lives were being patched together. The Ministry had been turned on its head, but Kinsley Shacklebolt was quickly getting things sorted out. The rebuilding of Hogwarts was set to commence on Monday morning.

Severus was still technically conscious, but he wasn’t there. His eyes didn’t track movement, though he could blink and would close his eyes if anything came too close to them. He didn’t speak or respond to sound, but he did occasionally wander. Lin put him to bed right after putting Nikki to bed. She trusted Minerva’s handiwork and knew that Severus couldn’t fall out a window or down the stairs. She left him alone more often, mostly out of necessity, but still didn’t feel comfortable doing it. Her magic was slowly returning, so caring for Severus was getting easier in a physical sense; the emotional toll was another matter.

Molly had arrived early to get the cooking started. She and Lin worked well together and chatted away while they split the kitchen duties. Guests began arriving and most of them milled around the patio. Arthur had little Teddy giggling and splashing in the pool. Drinks began flowing and soon the meal found its way to the table as guests gathered in Lindsay’s large and welcoming dining room. Halfway through the meal, Lindsay went upstairs for the umpteenth time that evening to check on her men.

It happened just as suddenly as turning on a light. She opened the bedroom door and stopped in mid-stride; the wide-eyed expression on her face became momentarily frozen. Severus frowned at her. He was still wondering how he’d arrived in her bed, how he’d acquired a navy-blue nightshirt, and why his wand wasn’t up his sleeve. He was sitting up facing her, and thinking she’d gone mad. She looked as if she hadn’t seen him in a lifetime.

“What’s the matter with you?” Severus’ voice was harsh, broken, and barely above a whisper. He cleared his throat, thinking he must’ve been sleeping with his mouth open. He searched under his pillow for his wand, but didn’t find it. “Accio wand!” The nightstand drawer on the other side of the bed opened, and his wand whizzed into his outstretched hand. What the hell was it doing over there?

“Severus?”

“Of course, it’s me. Who do you think I am?” All ability for speech left Lin as she ran to him and caressed his face with trembling hands. He pulled her hands away. “What is wrong with you?”

“You’re here; you’re really here.”

“Obviously, but I should be at Hogwarts. How did I get here?” He cleared his throat again and was annoyed that he couldn’t speak above a hoarse whisper. Nikki heard their voices and began fussing. Lindsay rose to lift him from his bassinet. Severus guessed the baby was a Weasley; that family bred like rabbits so it was a reasonable assumption. But he had no idea why Lin would be caring for an infant Weasley. As Lin approached with the baby in her arms, Severus saw blue eyes and black hair, and he became enraged. “Who?” was all he managed to say.

“He’s mine, of course,” said Lindsay. She immediately recognized the old jealousy surging through Severus, and knew exactly what he was thinking. “It’s amazing what you can get by mail order these days.” She sat on the bed next to Severus and tried to settle Nikki in his arms. Severus leaned away from Lin, refusing to even look at Nikki’s face. “Severus, this is Niketas Rubeus Noble Snape.”

“Mine?”

“Of course, he’s yours. Who else’s would he be?” Lin placed a pillow on Severus’ lap and laid Nikki on it.

Severus looked down in disbelief at the chubby robust bundle blowing raspberries at him. “Not possible,” rasped Severus, shaking his head.

Lin realized that Severus’ memory wasn’t fully intact. She put her hand under his chin to get his full attention. “There’s a lot that’s happened, Severus. I’ll explain everything in time, but I promise you everything is okay. Please, trust me.”

Trust—that was a word Severus took very seriously; the rash employment of it could mean a death sentence for a spy like himself. He slid the pillow off his lap towards Lin, who picked up the baby.

“What are you doing?” said Lin and Severus pointed to the bathroom. He wanted to gargle. Lin rose and let Severus slip his legs off the bed. His right leg was sore for some reason. Lin put her hand under his arm, but he pushed it away. “Let me help you.”

“I don’t need help.”

“You need your crutches.”

“Rubbish!” Severus didn’t know what she was talking about. He didn’t have or need crutches. He rose with much more difficulty than he’d expected. He felt horrible and wondered if he’d been cursed. He strode slowly and unsteadily toward the bathroom, but didn’t make five feet and had to stop and rest. He remained standing, but he allowed Lin to take his arm and steady him. “What’s wrong with me?”

“You were hurt badly in the Battle of Hogwarts—”

“What? It happened?” Severus tried to say more, but his voice gave out and he couldn’t utter another sound.

“I’ll explain everything once you’re settled. Are you hungry?” Severus nodded. He was more than hungry; he was famished. “Molly’s made an excellent dinner, and there’s plenty left over. I’ll bring you something.”

Severus made it into the bathroom and immediately grabbed hold of the sink to steady himself.

“Do you need help?”

“I know how to use the loo!”

Lin remained composed. Severus could be as grouchy as he liked. Lin was too thrilled to have him back to care about his attitude. “I’ll wait outside. Knock if you need help.”

Severus reached to open the medicine cabinet and stopped to stare at himself in the mirror. He almost didn’t recognize himself. The short hair could easily be remedied, but his skin looked paper thin and his cheeks were horribly sunken. His eyes traveled down to his neck where he saw numerous frightful scars. Memories began to flood into his mind. He felt his arms pinned to his sides. He heard the Dark Lord’s high voice in his ears. There was a flash of motion and then searing pain in his neck. He couldn’t breathe. Nagini coiled around his head; she struck him again and again and…

“Severus, are you alright? Knock twice on something if you are.”

Severus wrapped his knuckles twice on the wall. He studied his hands; even his fingers were too thin. His forearms looked wasted. He lifted his nightshirt over his head and stared in disbelief at his alien-looking body. Severus was naturally slim, and his ribs had always been somewhat visible, but now he almost looked like a living Inferius. The skin between his ribs was deeply sunken, and his waist was pulled away from his hip bones. He couldn’t bear to look at himself and pulled the nightshirt over his hideously emaciated body.

Lin heard the toilet flush and Severus gargling; a few seconds later, he opened the door. His hair was shoulder length again, and Lin assumed he used a spell to lengthen it because she didn’t have a Manegro potion in the bathroom cupboard. Lin was concerned about his pallor. She told him to sit on the lounge, and she’d bring a plate up to him.

Severus insisted on going downstairs. He leaned against the doorjamb while Lin fetched him a pair of black slippers he’d never seen before, claiming they were his. She wrapped a dark-green, cotton, dressing gown around him and claimed that, that was also his. Lastly, she helped him get his crutches under his arms. He hated to admit it, but he was glad to have them. Lin picked the fussing baby out of his bassinet for the second time and walked with Severus to the staircase.

“Minerva charmed the stairs so you wouldn’t fall—”

“I’m not a bloody toddler!” Severus put out his hand and felt the air around the top of the stairs. Lin didn’t know what he’d felt or sensed, but it soured his mood even further. He pulled his wand from his sleeve and flicked it roughly. Minerva’s charm broke with a loud, short-lived, sizzling sound.  

Neville ran to the bottom of the staircase from the direction of the dining room. “What in Merlin’s…?” He stood, mouth agape, frozen in his spot as he took in the sight of Severus Snape standing at the top of the stairs.

“Catching flies, Longbottom?” Severus’ voice was hoarse and low, but Neville definitely heard him clearly.

The shock of seeing him leaning on his crutches passed the moment Severus spoke. Neville’s jaw set, but Lin intervened before any words, or worse, began flying between them. “Neville, would you take Nikki for me?” Neville ran up the stairs and Lin met him halfway to pass the cooing baby over. Nikki liked Neville, who had no trouble making him coo and laugh.

It was quite an ordeal for Severus to climb down the stairs. He was breathing heavily by the time he reached the bottom. Despite his dislike for his former professor, Neville remained to offer any assistance should it be needed. He followed Lin and Severus into the dining room.

Lin’s guests were toasting the fallen, as had become a habit during these gatherings, when the dining room door opened and there entered the all too familiar sight of the stiff-backed stern Potions Master everyone had come to know and dislike. His sour-faced visage was somewhat obscured by the curtains of shiny black hair, still clean, that framed his long thin face. His eyes quickly darted around the room. Everyone was silent, just staring at him. He looked nervous. Lindsay entered behind him, closed the dining room door, and stopped to look at him with an expression of wondrous awe on her face as though she were looking at a great and precious work of art. Molly was the first to speak.

“Arthur, help him sit. I’ll just fetch a digestive potion for you, dear.” She bustled into the kitchen and was back in the blink of an eye.

“Over here, dear boy,” said Horace Slughorn, as he tapped the empty seat next to him. It had been Lindsay’s. Neville had been seated on Lin’s other side. He conjured another chair to put more distance between himself and Snape.

“How are you feeling?” said Arthur as he steered Severus into the empty chair.

“Fine,” croaked Severus.

“He’s having trouble speaking,” said Lin.

“No matter,” said Horace as he patted Severus’ shoulder. “We’ll do all the talking for you.”

Molly held the digestive potion to his lips, and Severus casually took it from her hand. “I made that myself, dear. You drink that up while I get a plate for you.” She smiled and nodded excitedly at Lin before she bustled out of the room again.

The digestive potion worked well and Severus was so hungry he felt himself feeling dizzy and nauseous. He hadn’t felt this hungry since he was a small boy. Molly returned with a plate piled high with food. Severus didn’t care what was on the plate as long as it was edible. Despite his ravenous appetite, he tested his ability to swallow with a small bite. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself by choking or spitting up food. Molly hovered, patting his shoulder and head like she would one of her children. Her motherly display of worry stopped just short of kissing the top of his head, and Severus was grateful for her discretion. Severus could hardly believe that a room full of people could be so captivated by a man eating a meal.

Nikki smelled the food and began to cry. Neville passed him off to Hagrid to be fed. Hagrid held Nikki in one hand with his index finger holding up Nikki’s head. Lin prepared a bottle of milk and some cereal for Hagrid to feed to his godson.

“Ain’t ‘e beautiful?” said Hagrid, dabbing his suddenly tear-filled eyes.

Remus could tell that Severus was uncomfortable and offered to recite the events he’d experienced during the battle. Severus nodded, and continued to nod periodically as each person present, including Neville, told their own tales of horror and heroism. Harry was the only one to decline. He made an excuse for himself and left for the patio where he sat with his feet dangling in the pool.

Harry didn’t like to talk about the war, and he usually avoided these little gatherings. He didn’t know why he’d come, perhaps because Ginny asked him, perhaps because he had nothing else to do. Harry had been on the move since the end of the war. He never stayed in one place too long. He helped anyone and everyone just to stay busy, just to occupy his mind. Harry was trying desperately to quiet his mind.

Severus had barely finished his first plate and Molly ran off to get him another. She was puzzled by his refusal to eat dessert, but didn’t push the matter due to his fragile condition. It wasn’t long after he’d finished eating that Severus’ head began to droop and his eyes kept closing. He was fighting sleep. Severus was unaccustomed to dealing with infirmity, and it irked him that he was losing a battle with his own weakened body.

Arthur and Remus rose to help Severus stand. He hadn’t asked for the help, nor did ask to be put to bed. It was humiliating for him to have to be lifted off of his chair. He insisted on walking upstairs himself, with the aid of crutches, despite nearly everyone in the room advising him against it. Severus Snape was not weak.

It took ages for Severus to hobble up each step. Arthur and Remus flanked him and Lin followed behind, grateful for the two men’s patience and good natures. Severus could be very difficult to handle, particularly when he was feeling vulnerable. Arthur steadied Severus while Remus took his crutches. They lowered him onto the bed, and he practically collapsed onto his pillow. He was asleep before Arthur lifted his legs onto the bed, and he didn’t even feel Lin pull the blankets over him.


	66. Chapter 66

Severus slept soundly, but his mind was locked in a dream state. He recalled seeing Lily and watched as she turned away from him toward James Potter. He felt the pain in his heart at her second rejection; it was the worst pain he’d ever felt. Physical pain is transient; eventually the body becomes overwhelmed and shuts down. Emotional pain never stops hurting. His mind swirled with images, and he found himself running through the Battle of Hogwarts looking for Potter; stray spells whizzed past his ears. Flashes of light and terrible sounds erupted all around him. He had to stay in the shadows and hide from the students and faculty, and the other Death Eaters. It was a near impossible task. He promised Dumbledore he’d protect the children, and he was doing his best. If the students saw him, they’d try to kill him. If the Death Eaters saw Severus protecting the students or faulty, they’d try to kill him.

His last moments with the Dark Lord repeatedly replayed in his mind. Memories of the First Wizarding War mixed with memories of the second. A crying sound in the distance roused him. The last thing he saw in his mind’s eye were a pair of bespectacled hazel eyes staring blankly up at him as he stepped over the dead body of James Potter.

Severus hadn’t felt Lin come to bed, nor did he feel her warm lithe body lying against him in the night, but he did feel her turn over and rise, rushing to soothe a crying baby. Sunrise was imminent and the sky was turning to a fiery red and yellow as the sun fought for domination over the moon’s darkened sky. Severus donned his slippers and green cotton dressing gown and hobbled down the back stairs to his study. All of the houseguests were war veterans like himself. If any of them had dreams like his, they were likely wandering the house in search of peace that they’ll never find. Severus didn’t want to bump into anyone. He wanted to be alone.

He slowly made his way along the cellar corridor. The pictures he’d hung a lifetime ago were still in their places. His study was unchanged, but kept clean. He reached into his desk drawer for the potion formula that he and Lin had never finished. He plopped into his desk chair and began reviewing his notes, but his mind kept drifting. He hadn’t expected to survive the wat, and now if was over. The Dark Lord was dead and Potter was alive. Severus’ purpose for living was gone. What was he to do with himself? He’d rather gouge his own eyes out than go back to teaching, if that would even be an option. And now he had a son, and a woman who thought far too much of him. 

Severus was in no way prepared to be a parent. He wasn’t prepared for a life-long commitment. He’d taken his relationship with Lin too far; he did it out of a blending of fear and lust. He hadn’t expected to live long enough to deal with the consequences of his selfishness. He assumed that once the war was over and she was free, she’d find someone else. It would be easy for a beautiful young woman like Lin to find a good man, a good husband. But Severus was ill and frail, and Lin felt an obligation to care for him. It would be better for her if she just let him go. A light knock on the study door drew his attention.

“Enter.”

“Feeling any better this morning?” said Lin as she entered with a tray laden with Severus’ breakfast. Severus didn’t answer her, but that didn’t dampen her spirits. “There’s another one of Molly’s digestive potions. Make sure you drink it.” Lin lifted a small vial filled with a silvery substance from the tray. Severus knew what it was and part of him didn’t want it back. “Harry said these are yours.”

“Did you look at them?”

“Of course not, I never go through your things.”

“I want you to see them.” Severus stood without his crutches and flicked his wand at a cupboard next to his desk. The cupboard doors opened and a pensieve floated out and settled on the desk. He swished his wand at it and the pensieve doubled in size. He poured the vial in and set his wand against his temple to draw out more memories to place in the pensieve. He joined Lindsay in viewing his memories.

Lin saw a swirl of motion that finally settled into a scene of two children playing. One was a girl with dark-red hair and the other was an unkempt boy with sloppy, dirty, black hair. She looked at the adult Snape standing next to her. He motioned for her to continue watching. He silently examined her reactions, ignoring the scenes and years of memories that whirled past. At first she looked puzzled, but realization began to dawn on her as the two children matured into young adults. She tried to separate herself from the pensive, but Snape held her back. The sound of Albus’ voice drew her attention back to Severus’ memories.

_“…Tell me, Severus. What is your relationship with Lindsay?”_

_“That’s none of your concern,” said Snape tersely._

_“Don’t play games with me, Severus. You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”_

_“A dalliance, Headmaster, nothing more…”_

Lindsay felt sick as she pulled away from the pensieve. “You used me.”

“Yes,” replied Severus.

“Do you have any idea what I’ve gone through for you? I defied Dumbledore for you. I nearly killed myself for you. There are people lying dead now that I could’ve helped if I hadn’t wasted so much energy on you. I should’ve left you with your precious dead Lily.”

“She never wanted me!” he growled in frustration.

“Oh, well that makes everything okay. Why didn’t you just say so in the first place?”

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you.”

“Don’t press my buttons, Severus, I’m in no mood. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have guests to see to.” She left the room without touching him, something she never did. He limped to the nearest chair and flopped down onto it; certain that he’d just ruined his life for the second time.

#

Lin ran up the cellar steps three at a time. Minerva was just entering the kitchen when Lin entered it.

“I see you’ve had a talk with Severus.”

“I'm such a fool, Minerva.”         

“We're all fools when we're in love, dearie.”

Minerva took Lin’s arm and guided her into another room before anyone else entered the kitchen. The murmurs of people softly talking and Teddy and Nikki giggling could be heard coming from the living room. Lin explained what had happened in Severus’ study. Minerva reassured Lin as best she could and helped her compose herself before joining her houseguests.

Minerva knocked on Severus’ study door. He didn’t answer. “I know you’re in there, Severus.” She entered without invitation and saw Severus sitting in a high-backed leather chair staring at a lit fireplace. Minerva pointed to the chair opposite him. “May I?” Severus nodded. “Thank you,” said Minerva as she sat.

“Severus, you’re an arse,” said Minerva harshly. “There are only a few people who genuinely like you, and the ones who actually love you can be counted on the fingers of one hand without exhausting the supply. That girl adores you. What you just did to her is inexcusable.”

“It’s none of your concern.”

“Lin is my friend and Niketas is my godson so it is my concern.” Severus didn’t reply. “For Merlin’s sake, talk to me, Severus!”

“I can’t be a father.”

“You should’ve thought of that before you became one.”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“But it did, Severus. Like it or not, you have a son, who is currently upstairs blowing raspberries at Neville Longbottom.” Severus winced at the mention of Longbottom’s name. “I don’t understand you, Severus,” Minerva’s voice softened. “All of your adult life, you’ve taken responsibility for your actions. You had a goal, and you did whatever you had to do to reach that goal; no matter the cost, regardless of what any of us thought of you. And now, when you have a chance to be truly happy, you want to run away. Why are you doing this?” Severus was silent. “Fine, Severus, you just sit there and brood, but you mark my words; you’re going to be very sorry someday. If you think the despair you felt after Lily died is the worst feeling there is, you’re in for a very rude awakening. What you’re going to feel when you realize you’ve thrown away the best thing that ever happened to you will be indescribably miserable.” Severus never took his eyes off the flickering flames. Minerva left the room without another word.

#

Harry slipped away from the others and quietly descended the stairs into the cellar. Snape’s influence was obvious. It had become an ominous space and the stone walls were covered in the familiar horrific portraits he’d seen in Snape’s D.A.D.A. class. No wonder Lindsay hated coming down here but, for reasons known solely to her, she accepted Snape and all the gloom that came with him. Firelight was flickering under the door to Snape’s study. Harry knocked and heard the hoarse low-voiced reply of, “Enter.” Snape’s tone, however, was drastically different from what Harry remembered. The coldness and formality in his voice was gone. Harry surmised that his tone was as close to warm as was possible for Snape. 

Snape was sitting in a tall-backed armchair done in dark wood and dark-green leather. He nursed a barely touched glass of white wine, and his head rested against the side of the chair. A half-eaten plate of food sat on the table next to him. His eyes were closed, and his legs were stretched before him in front of the fire. The portrait Lindsay had painted of him hung above the fireplace.

“Professor…” began Harry. Snape’s eyes snapped open, and he glared hatefully at Harry. His relaxed posture instantly stiffened. It was clear that Snape had been expecting Lindsay.

“What is it, Potter?” he said sharply, the coldness returning to his dark gruff voice.

“I just wanted to talk to you, sir.”

“Best of bosom friends are we, Potter?”

Harry took a deep breath and choked down his growing rage. “I know how much you loved my mother, and I just wanted to say…” Snape’s eyes narrowed and a muscle in his jaw began to twitch. Harry thought it best to abandon his initial statement and ended with, “I mean…I…I just wanted to thank you.”

Snape’s lip curled into a sneer. “You’ve done that. You may go.”

Harry turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him. “Bastard!” said Harry through gritted teeth. Harry climbed the stairs to the kitchen and stood there wondering what to do. He decided that a dip in the pool might calm his temper.

Severus listened to Harry’s angry footsteps climbing the stairs. He picked up his wine glass and downed the contents. He folded his arms across his chest and stared angrily at the flickering flames.


	67. Chapter 67

It was nearing lunch time when Severus heard light footfalls outside his study door. It had to be Lin, he knew her light step. He’d been expecting her. She didn’t knock. But she was carrying a plate of food, and Severus hadn’t expected that. Perhaps it was a farewell gift. She sat it on the tray containing the half-full plate she’d brought him for breakfast.

“You've come to tell me to leave, I expect.”

“You're not strong enough for that. I have some things I need to say to you before you disappear on me.”

“You don't need to tell me about the child. I'll support him and—”

“He's not 'the child',” snapped Lin. “He's your son, and he needs a father not a paycheck.”

Severus continued where he'd left off as though Lindsay hadn't spoken. “...and I'll stay out of your way. You may raise him as you see fit.”

“Well, that's the easy way out isn't it, Severus—no family ties, no obligations. You can just disappear into the darkness.” Lindsay put her hands up. “Stop it! Just stop. I came in here because I have some things to say to you, and I'm not leaving until they're said.”

“Go on. I'll not interrupt.”

“You know that my parents were devout Christians. I don't share all of their beliefs, but I loved my family, and I respected them and their convictions. Knowing that my behavior with you would have shamed them is painful to me, but I did it because I love you and I truly believed that you loved me. I never asked you to commit to me because I knew the danger you were in. I'm hurt and angry that you betrayed my trust, but mostly I'm angry with myself for allowing you to do it.”

“Are you finished?”

“Why, do you finally have something to say?”

“No, I have something to show you.”

They moved to the pensieve again and Lin watched as Severus’ memories replayed. She turned away when she saw Albus. “There’s one more,” said Severus. Lin tried to move past him, but Severus held her firmly. “Please, just one more.” Lindsay sighed in irritation and nodded sharply. The scene with Albus floated away and another memory swirled into being.

_…“Sev, open your eyes.”_

_“Lily? Is it really you?”_

_“Of course it’s me, silly,” replied Lily as she took his hand and guided him to his feet. “It’s so good to see you, Sev.” Severus wrapped her in a crushing embrace. “Thank you, Sev, for protecting my Harry. I couldn’t be more grateful.”_

_“I’m so sorry, Lily.” Lily released him and tried to step back._

_“You don’t belong here, Sev.”_

_“No, Lily, please don’t say that. Please let me stay with you.”_

_“It’s not your time, Sev. You have to let me go.”_

_“No, Lily, no!” He reached for her. She smiled and reached out, her face beaming with love, but it wasn’t him she was reaching for. A figure appeared next her; it was James Potter…_

Lin was speechless as she pulled herself away from the pensieve.

Severus moved away to sit in his chair. “I love Lily. But she told me to go. She never wanted me; she never will.”

“How could you use me like that, Severus?”

“I’m not the only guilty party here. I saved your life and that's the only reason you even noticed me.”

“Gratitude only opened the door. It was all the beautiful things I saw inside you that made me want you.” Severus harrumphed. “Why do you think I slept with you, Severus?”

“Because I was the only man available.”

“You honestly think that?”

“It's the truth except for Dumbledore, and we both know that wasn't going to happen unless you suddenly grew a beard and your voice dropped several octaves.”

“A neighbor, the postman, a pizza delivery boy; hell, I could’ve paid for a man if I was that desperate. I chose you because I wanted you. I still want you, God only knows why.” The muscles in Severus’ jaw twitched as Lin rattled off her list of potential sex partners. “There it is.”

“There what is?”

“The jealousy, Severus. Why are you so jealous if you don’t care about me?”

“I never said I didn’t care.”

“Then tell me how you feel about me.” He struggled to speak. His mind was swirling with words, but he just couldn’t say them. “Just say it!”

“I can't! I'm not like you! I can't just say what I feel! They...they're inside! They belong inside!”

“See that's why you get so angry. You need a healthier emotional outlet.”

“What?”

“Just take a deep breath and say whatever comes to your mind.”

Severus looked away from Lin. It was several seconds before he spoke. “I saw Lily when I looked at you. The first time I met you, I saw some of her and I wanted you.” He was flustered and searching for words, his low raspy voice cracking from overuse. “I mean…I saw you too. Then you wanted me, and I didn’t know what to do. I lied to Dumbledore. I thought…I knew you’d find someone else, someone better, and I didn’t want to look like a fool again, so I lied. Please understand I just couldn’t let her go. You see, it’s my fault she’s dead. I brought information to the Dark Lord and he targeted the Potters. They’re both dead because of me.”

He was trying to hide behind his curtain of hair. Lindsay could see the tears streaming down his face and her anger waned. She placed her hand on his. “Oh, Severus…”

“I killed the only person who ever gave a damn about me.”

“No, you didn’t. The Dark Lord did.”

“He wouldn’t have killed her if it hadn’t been for the information I gave him.”

“You know better than that,” replied Lin. “From what I’ve been told about James and Lily Potter, they were both gifted and defiant enough to be thorns in the Dark Lord’s side. He’d have killed them anyway.”

“I thought if I protected her son that she’d forgive me, and maybe she’d want me. But she wanted the great Quidditch hero, the brave martyr.”

“You think love is like a Quidditch match? Women aren’t prizes in Christmas crackers, Severus. We don't sit around in Quidditch trophies waiting for a great athlete to take us home. A woman isn't going to want you just because you've done something heroic—not for the long term anyway; it would be infatuation or gratitude, but certainly not love.” Severus thought of his mother—grateful to have a man, any man, take an interest in her. “A relationship based solely on fleeting emotions can’t last. If Lily were honest with herself and you, she'd have left you for a man she did love. If she stayed out of obligation, you'd both be miserable. Do you really think you could live happily ever after with a woman who doesn't love you?"

“She's nice to me,” growled Severus.

“She isn't nice to you. She _was_ nice to you, and you must accept that she's gone. Loving you as a friend and loving you as a spouse are two very different things.” Lin examined his expression and a realization finally dawned on her. “You really don't understand, do you? Oh, Severus, what goes on in that twisted mind of yours?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Tell me why you love Lily.”

“No, it’s pointless.”

“Indulge me…please.”

“She...”

“Go on, Severus, say it!"

“She was nice to me!”

“What else? There has to be more than that.”

“She was beautiful and clever and...kind.”

“Those are wonderful attributes. Now I'll tell you why I love you. Because you're beautiful and clever—don’t turn away from me! Look me in the eyes and you'll see I'm not lying to you. I love you because you're beautiful and clever and I enjoy your company. You’ve made this cold empty house a home for me. I’ve never in my life wanted to spend so much time at home.”

“I can’t let her go. She means too much to me.”

“It’s not a crime to love more than one person. You’re not betraying Lily’s memory. But you have betrayed my trust. You needed forgiveness, and I can understand that. But you lied to me, Severus. You hid Lily from me. I would never ask you to forget Lily, or to stop loving her, but I won’t accept second place.”

Severus took her hands and held them tightly. “I never meant that. You’re not a surrogate.” 

Lindsay was silent for moment as she thought things over. “You swear to me that I’m not going to discover some tryst, or broken engagement, or string of women—”

“Other women? What do you think I'd win them over with, my charm or this handsome face?” He turned his head to give her a stark profile that enhanced the size of his nose.

“They won me over,” said Lin.

“Why do you say things like that?” said Severus bitterly.

“Because they’re true; because I love you.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “There’s no one else. There was only ever Lily. I swear it.”

“I suppose I can forgive this little deception of yours, but don’t think it’s going to be easy for me, Severus.” He grinned. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re jealous.”

“Well, what did you expect?”

“I don’t know, but not that. No one’s ever been jealous regarding me.”

“So I have a jealous streak,” confessed Lin. “It’s small one, but it’s there.” She tugged on his hands. “Come to bed, Severus. You don’t think I’m going to let you wallow in misery in the cellar, do you?”

Severus seemed to get continuously paler as they approached their bedroom. He was strongly favoring his right leg. Lin helped him undress and dropped a fresh nightshirt over his head. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently kissed her lips. Then he leaned his forehead against hers and whispered, “I like you. I do.” Her broad welcoming smile returned as she helped him settle into bed. He woke in time for dinner, but chose to eat in Lin’s…in their bedroom, and hopefully avoid Molly’s fussing. 


	68. Chapter 68

Everyone had either gone home or gone to bed, but Harry didn’t feel like sleeping. He didn’t feel particularly sociable either. He roamed the gardens for a bit, until it started to rain. Then he started roaming the house, taking in all of its creaks and groans and odd noises. He hadn’t noticed them the other times he’d stayed here, but those were happier times and his attention had been focused elsewhere. Finally, he found himself on the second floor.

He walked slowly along staring at the soft green lights mounted high on the walls that were just bright enough to see by. They had an oddly relaxing effect on him, and he stifled a yawn. He stopped to remove his glasses and rub his suddenly tired eyes when he noticed a bright sliver of light emanating from Lindsay and Snape’s bedroom. The door was ajar. He moved quietly toward it with the intention of closing it, but he stopped when he heard Lindsay’s voice. She was singing softly to Snape, something she did quite often. It sounded a bit like a lullaby.

Harry stifled a laugh and pushed the door open a crack expecting to see Snape’s face looking sour and contemptuous, but he didn’t look that way at all. He was clearly exhausted, which was only normal considering his injuries, but he also looked relaxed in way that Harry had never seen before. There was something else there too. Was it vulnerability?  He sat on the large upholstered chest at the foot of their bed. He was barefoot. The black nightshirt contrasted sharply with the marble-white skin of his sunken chest. Snape stretched out his right leg, and he rubbed his hand briskly along his right thigh. It was clear that he was feeling some pain. Lindsay moved to the other side of the room and out of Harry’s sight. Snape’s eyes followed her. Harry could see the same intensity in Snape’s features that he’d witnessed many times before when Snape watched Lindsay, only now the look was pure; it was no longer mingled with trepidation.

Lindsay moved back into Harry’s view. She was now wearing a white silk dressing gown. She had a dark-blue bottle in her hand. Snape patted the spot next to him and leaned into Lindsay as she sat, shutting his weary black eyes as he rested his head on her shoulder. He gently pulled some of her hair down and was twirling it around his fingers. She caressed his back with her free hand.

“Potter came to my study.”

“I knew there was more bothering you than just your leg,” said Lindsay softly. “It didn’t turn ugly, did it?”

“I didn’t give it the chance to.”

“Harry can be very understanding, Severus. If you would just give him a chance—”

“Potter represents everything I want to forget,” answered Snape sharply. “That face! That arrogant smug face!”

“Are we talking about Harry or James?”

“What’s the difference?” snapped Snape as he sat up. Lindsay let out a long-suffering sigh. Harry envied her patience. “You know what he would’ve done if I hadn’t pushed him? He’d have coasted through his classes, doing just enough to pass, and he wouldn’t have learned a thing. I had to look at that face every day—every single day—staring at me, flaunting his eyes at me like a trophy.”

“Severus, you’re rambling and you’re making yourself angry. When you get angry you spend the night prowling the house, leaving me to sleep alone, and you know how much I hate to sleep alone.”

“He is everything that I wanted and lost. He is what can never be. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t talk about her.”

“No, it’s okay. Love can’t be turned on and off like a tap, I understand that. But I won’t take a back a seat to her, Severus.”

“I don’t expect that. Don’t you see? That’s why I don’t want Potter here. As long as he’s around there’s a chance that I could lose again.”

“Severus, you have to stop blaming Harry. He isn’t like a cursed penny that keeps popping up and wreaking havoc. That’s more Fred and George’s territory. You’re the only one that could push me away, and you haven’t done a very good job of it so far.”

Snape looked chastised and defeated. He tilted his head toward the bed. “I don’t think I can…” Harry put his hand over his mouth as he felt his stomach lurch and heat rise into his face. The very idea of Snape saying or doing anything remotely sexual embarrassed and sickened him, but he also felt tremendous pity at the thought of the poor guy being impotent.

“I told you, I don’t care about that. Give yourself some time. You’re still healing.” Snape dropped his head, and his face became obscured by a curtain of black hair. He took the blue bottle from her hand and began to play with its stopper, repeatedly popping it off and reclosing it. “Why do you want me?” He spoke so softly that Harry had to strain his ears to hear him. He sounded very much like a child asking a parent if he was handsome, knowing full well that he wasn’t, and fearing that parent will tell him the truth, but at the same time dreading the potential lie designed to spare his feelings.

“How many times do I have to answer that, Severus?” said Lindsay patiently. “You know why; you can see it, and I’ve never tried to hide it from you. I can’t explain it. It’s just something fundamental to me. I don’t question it, but I am grateful for it…and for you.” She was quiet for a moment, apparently waiting for him to say something. When it was obvious that he wasn’t going to reply, she spoke again, “Do you want me to rub that liniment on your leg, or are you just going to play with the stopper all night?”

“Harry!” whispered Hermione. “What are you doing?” Harry quietly closed the bedroom door, silently took Hermione by the arm, and walked farther down the hallway with her. “They weren’t doing anything, Hermione. You don’t actually think that I’d watch them… do things?”

“I should hope not. Thinking about them doing things is revolting enough.”

“Their door was ajar, and I went to close it when I heard Lindsay singing. I just listened for a moment.”

“She does have a lovely voice, doesn’t she?” said Hermione.

“Yes, she does. So what are you doing up? I thought everyone was in bed.”

“I was in bed. Ron’s snoring woke me up. I’m two rooms away from him, and I can still hear him. I thought I’d get a snack or something before I try again.”

“Mind if I join you?” asked Harry. They made their way, arm in arm, downstairs to the kitchen. It was almost as if Ron could smell the food the second Hermione opened the refrigerator door. He materialized in the kitchen doorway rubbing his belly and yawning.

“Did you hear that guy snoring?”

“Yes, we did,” replied Hermione with a roll of her eyes. Harry made tea while Hermione cut three slices of cherry pie. Ron needed more than a slice of pie to fill his stomach and rummaged through the fridge piling food onto a plate. They each sat at the kitchen table to tuck in.

“What’s the matter, Harry?” said Hermione. “You’ve been looking grim for days.”

“I don’t know,” said Harry. “It’s everything I guess. When I was watching Snape and Lindsay—”

“That’s disgusting!” said Ron, nearly choking on his mouthful of food.

“It hasn’t stopped you from eating though, has it?” said Hermione. Ron made a face at her.

“They weren’t doing anything, Ron,” said Harry. “It’s just hard to look at him.”

“I know,” said Hermione. “He’s very ill, and Lin said the seizures might have caused permanent damage to his legs.”

“What seizures?” said Ron. “How do you know that?”

“I was talking to Lin obviously. He had seizures while in hospital. He had a huge amount of snake venom in his body and the blood loss was tremendous.”

“When I was watching him earlier,” said Harry. “I thought how easily it could’ve been me.”

“What do you mean?” said Hermione.

“Snape’s life was a lot like mine. I could’ve made the same choices he did. I could’ve been him.”

“You are nothing like Professor Snape, Harry,” said Hermione, appalled.

“That’s not true really,” replied Harry. “I had so many people looking after me, steering me in the right direction; Dumbledore, Hagrid, Sirius, Remus, and Ron’s parents. It was virtually impossible for me to end up on the wrong side.”

“Rubbish!” said Ron. “You didn’t know any of them when I met you, except for Hagrid, and you’d only known him for a few hours. Before our Sorting Ceremony, when you refused to take Malfoy’s hand, you chose your side then and there. Nobody led you to anything.”

“Well said, Ron,” said Hermione. She reached across the table to hold Harry’s hand. “Things are going to get better, Harry. We all just need some time.” Harry nodded, forced a smile, and finished his pie before retiring.  


	69. Chapter 69

The rebuilding of Hogwarts began on Monday morning and on Friday morning a ceremony was held in the Great Hall.

“I don’t understand why I must attend an award ceremony for Potter,” said Severus sourly. His voice was still hoarse, but steadily getting stronger. He hobbled slowly through the broken halls of Hogwarts with crutches under his arms. His right leg still dragged and was difficult to control. He was wearing a very expensive set of hunter-green dress robes that Lindsay had bought for him. He thought the expense was impractical, but wore them to please her. Minerva McGonagall, now Headmistress, was at his side. She wore a stunning set of deep-red dress robes tastefully accented with gold embroidery. Their finery was a stark and depressing contrast to the school’s charred and devastated appearance. The Weasley twins had called Lindsay away on some urgent business, and she agreed to meet Severus in the Great Hall.

“Because you missed the first one,” said Minerva sternly.

He stopped to catch his breath just before reaching the battered doors of the Great Hall. Minerva fussed, wiping the sweat from his brow, and straightened his collar and jacket. “Ready?” she asked. He nodded, and as he made it to the Great Hall’s doors, they swung open to reveal a large crowd of people. Many of whom were standing, filling up the perimeter of the room. Everyone turned toward the open doors and began clapping. Severus turned to look for Potter, thinking he was behind him. When he saw Minerva smiling at him, he realized that it was him they were clapping for. He tried to move away, but Minerva caught his arm. “Severus Snape, don’t you dare embarrass me!”

“They’ll think I’m a cripple,” he rasped.

“Nonsense! They think you’re a hero, and they’re right. Now you get up there.”

He started up the center of the Great Hall with Minerva still at his side, ready to take hold of him should he stumble. He looked to the many smiling faces, searching for students he knew. There were so few of them. Many were maimed or disfigured. The rest of the crowd were members of the students’ families, well-wishers, and curious onlookers.

It seemed like it took an eternity for Severus to reach the High Table. His face had gone ashen, and he was sweating from exertion. He felt humiliated by his infirmity. Kingsley Shacklebolt was standing at the podium, waiting patiently for Severus to reach his seat. Minerva motioned for Hagrid to help Severus up the steps. Hagrid picked him up and plunked him down on the seat next to him. Minerva took the seat on Severus’ other side. Severus scanned the room looking for Lindsay and saw her standing close to the High Table, leaning against the wall, with the Weasley twins and other assorted members of the vast Weasley clan standing next to her.

Shacklebolt raised his hands and the room became silent. “We were all here just a few weeks ago to celebrate our victory and to honor our heroes. While we were celebrating, one of those heroes was silently battling for his life. He wasn’t among our number then, but he’s here today. He beat the odds and survived the severe injuries he sustained at Voldemort’s hand.” Many in the crowd winced at the sound of Voldemort’s name being uttered. “Today’s honoree has recovered enough to join us for our tribute to him and can personally witness our show of gratitude for the sacrifices he made for our cause. For outstanding bravery and unwavering loyalty in the face of tremendous opposition and hardship, I am proud to award Severus Snape with the Order of Merlin, First Class. Here to present this prestigious award is our own Mr. Harry Potter.”

Once again, the room erupted in applause. Severus stood, leaving his crutches untouched, with the help of Hagrid, who was so excited that he nearly threw him on his face. Harry presented the medal to Severus and shook his hand. “I can’t think of anyone who deserves this more than you do, sir.” Shacklebolt shook Severus’ hand and asked him if he had anything to say. Severus shook his head and pointed to his neck, then resumed his seat. “He can’t really talk yet, but I’d be happy to speak in his place,” said Harry. Shacklebolt waved him over to the podium, and Severus’ face went even paler as Harry neared it.

“Professor Snape is currently unable to speak due to the severe injuries that he sustained in the altercation with Voldemort. He has graciously agreed to allow me to speak in his stead. First, it must be said that this war could not have been won without Professor Snape’s help. He was a spy in Voldemort’s camp and the information he provided was critical to our eventual success. He played his role so well that many of us here today were convinced that he was loyal to Voldemort. I am certainly guilty of that belief.” Harry turned to look at Snape. “Sir, please accept our collective apology for having thought the worst of you.”

Harry turned back to face the audience. “Secondly, I feel honor-bound to tell all of you that our seemingly ordinary professor had the courage and audacity to stand in Voldemort’s presence, look him in the eyes, and lie to the greatest Legilimens the wizarding world has ever seen.” The room erupted in shouting and applause. Harry waited for the noise to die down before continuing. Once again he turned his attention to Snape. “Sir, we are blessed to have you among us, and we hope that you would accept our sincere gratitude for the extraordinary sacrifices that you have made.”

Severus was so embarrassed that he wished the floor would swallow him up. He strongly considered diving under the High Table that stood behind him, but was certain that Hagrid would catch him before he made it. He sat stiff-backed and rigid, his cheeks were flame red, and his hands gripped his knees. Every eye in the room bored into him, undoubtedly mocking in his frailty. Minerva smiled and gently patted his hand.

Facing the audience again, Harry continued his speech. “We are all here together in this Great Hall where we have enjoyed friendship, camaraderie, and even rivalry. There are many—so many—who made the greatest possible sacrifice so that we could be here today. They can’t be with us, but perhaps if we cheer loudly enough, they’ll hear us and they’ll know that the Great Hall is ours once again. Hogwarts is ours again. We shall rebuild her. Our children and our children’s children will walk through her resurrected halls, and she will forever stand as a symbol of honor, integrity, and valor. In the words of my mentor and Hogwarts’ most revered headmaster, the great Albus Dumbledore; let the feast begin!”

If it were possible for sound to travel to Heaven, then Heaven was surely rocked to its very foundation. People were screaming and cheering and crying; many had taken to their feet. Some, led by Fred and George Weasley, were standing atop the tables, shouting, whistling, and applauding.

Harry removed his glasses and wiped his eyes. He embraced Minerva and Hagrid, but knew better than to try such intimacy with Snape. To him, Harry gave a short polite bow and stepped down to find Ginny’s waiting arms.

Severus had never shaken so many hands in his life. People lined up to get near him. He’d once thought that fame was the pinnacle of success. Now he just wanted to go home and take a nap, and let world continue on without him. He waved Lin over. “I need to get out of here.”

“Just let me tell Minerva we’re leaving. I’ll meet you outside the doors.”

Severus moved slowly through the crowd. People we’re clapping his shoulders and complimenting him as he passed. He nodded, but didn’t stop until he saw Pomona Sprout with one of her students, Paulinus Tate. He was a handsome boy, intelligent, and generally inoffensive. Severus couldn’t stand him. Tate was forever seeking approval from his teachers, and all of them readily applauded the boy’s hard work, except for Severus. Now, as Severus looked at the boy’s twisted ruined body, he felt nothing but compassion for him. An approximate one-third of the boy’s face was identifiable; the rest was misshapen beyond recognition.

Tate had been hit with the Twister Curse; its effects continuously warped the victim’s body until it caused death. It was an agonizing demise. The only reason Tate was still alive was because the curse’s caster was dead, which dramatically slowed the spell’s effect. This curse always left traces so Tate’s body would continue to deform. The boy was lucky if he had three months left to live.

“Here he is,” said Pomona to Tate as she guided the shambling limping boy to Severus’ side. Her tone was cheerful, but her face showed all the worry and sadness she felt. Tate was nearly blind and couldn’t see her expression. “Paulinus wanted to talk to you, Severus.” Tate reached out and felt for Severus’ hand. “Professor Snape is on crutches, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, sorry, sir.” He was difficult to understand because of his injuries. He drooled uncontrollably and Pomona kept dabbing his mouth with a hankie. Tate’s hands traveled to Severus’ shoulder. The boy gripped and patted Severus almost as if he was making sure that Severus was really there. “I won’t keep you, sir. I just wanted to congratulate you on your medal.”

“Thank you, Tate.”

“Sorry?”

“Professor Snape said thank you.” Tate nodded.

The boy was incapable of smiling, so Severus had no idea if he was pleased or not. Pomona looked expectantly at him, but he didn’t know what to say. Dumbledore would’ve told the boy what he needed to hear, so that’s what Severus did. He leaned in to get close to Tate’s ear and said, “I’m very proud you, Paulinus. You fought bravely.”

Tate gripped Severus’ shoulder more tightly. He was clearly excited. “Thank you, sir. Thank you so much. Professor Sprout, did you hear?”

“I did hear. I told you he’d be proud. We’re all proud of you.” She mouthed ‘thank you’ to Severus and steered Tate back to his seat. He continued to babble on about what Severus had said to him.

Severus couldn’t wait to get out of the Great Hall. He nodded to a few people, but didn’t stop for anyone else. Lin was waiting for him when he reached the doors.

“I saw that poor boy you were talking to.”

“You can’t help him, Lin.” Severus continued to walk away and Lin followed.

“Are you sure? Maybe I could just—”

Severus stopped. “That boy was hit with a very powerful curse, one that leaves traces behind. You’re not strong enough to dispel the residue or reverse the curse’s effects.”

“Maybe when I’m stronger—”

“He won’t live that long.” Severus resumed walking. They were returning to the Headmistress’ office to floo home.

“What spell was he hit with, Severus?”

“It’s called with the Twister Curse. It didn’t get its name from the damage it causes, but for its strong tendency to turn on its caster. It’s a dangerous unpredictable spell, even the Dark Lord refused to cast it. The only person I know that was both powerful and crazy enough to use it was Bellatrix LeStrange. Needless to say, it’s a rare spell. Most people don’t know of it.”

“Isn’t there anything that can be done for him?”

Severus stopped again. “Only easing his pain; the healers at St. Mungo’s are more than fit for the task. Come along, Lin. I’m tired.”


	70. Chapter 70

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ!  
> I know it's been a while since I updated. I've been busy formatting my other story 'Neville's Nightmare' into an ePub. Check my bio if you want it.
> 
> I'm on temporary hiatus from writing due to an unexpected death in the family. Thank you for your patience and understanding. 
> 
> I'm leaving a short teaser chapter from part 2 of Redemption of SS, which may or may not change when I actually write the story. Part 1 isn't finished yet, but I'll get back to it later.

IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ CHAPTER NOTES!  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
A nervous young trainee Auror popped his head into Harry Potter's office. “Mr. Potter, sir?”  
“What is it, Adams?” answered Harry without looking up from his paperwork. He hated paperwork. It was the worst part of his job. He’d rather duel another dark wizard than have to spend the day scribbling on parchment.  
“Adelle Simmons didn’t come to work this morning.”  
Harry looked up. “Maybe she’s ill. Did anyone look in on her?”  
“I went to her flat, but she didn’t answer the door. She’s not answering by Floo either.”  
Harry set down his quill and leaned back in his chair. “That’s odd. She’s usual punctual. Wasn’t she due back from a holiday?”  
“Yes, sir, she was due back today, in fact.”  
“Alright,” said Harry, happy to be relieved from his paperwork. “I’ll look in on her.”  
“Right, sir,” said Adams disappearing from Harry’s office door.  
Harry moved to the fireplace in his office and tossed in a handful of Floo powder. He stepped into the green flames and found himself in Adelle’s flat. A putrid odor hit him in the face like a brick. He drew his wand and covered his nose and mouth with his shirt. The smell was so overpowering that he couldn’t find the source; it seemed to be everywhere. He searched systematically through each room until he reached the bedroom, and to his great horror, found the source of the odor. Young Adelle was lying dead in her bed; her face blackened and lined with green pustules. Harry pulled the blanket away from her; the cloth was stuck to her skin and Harry had to pull with a little force to move it. A small swarm of flies buzzed and flew into the air. The rest of her was also black and riddled with infection. There were no maggots that he could see. He gagged, but managed to not vomit.  
Normal protocol would be to contact St. Mungo's, but something in the pit of Harry's stomach told him Dark Magic was involved. On a small desk that sat in a tiny alcove next to the kitchen, sat a strange-looking parchment that depicted what appeared to be a runic language. The runes looked to have been copied from something using a graphite pencil, an odd thing for a witch to do, but Simmons was a Muggle-born.  
Most people would've used the alcove as a breakfast nook, but Simmons was studious and curious; every square inch of spare space she had was devoted to study. Harry stuffed the parchment into his pocket before going to the fireplace and tossing in a handful of Floo powder. He needed to tell Hermione about this. Hermione’s head appeared in the green flames.  
“Hello, Harry, what is it?”  
“We have a problem. I’ve just found trainee Auror Adelle Simmons dead in her flat.”  
“Oh, dear Merlin! What happened? Surely it couldn't have been foul play?”  
“I don't think so. She appears to have been ill...”  
“Why did you contact me instead of St. Mungo's?”  
“This is an unusual-looking illness, Hermione. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I suspect dark magic may be involved. I believe I may also be infected--"  
“Right, Harry, stay put. I’ll send the Healers to you.” Hermione's head disappeared and within seconds two Healers stepped out of the fireplace. The first was a wizard who tended to Harry; the other was a small witch who marched immediately into Adelle's bedroom. Seconds after the second Healer reappeared from the bedroom, a great swarm of Healers appeared and Harry was whisked away to St. Mungos where he spent two days in quarrantine before being released into Ginny’s care.  
~~~  
Harry paced the length of Hermione's office. "Are you sure there's nothing on it, Hermione?"  
"I've looked over it twice, Harry. There's nothing on this parchment but gibberish." Hermione handed the parchment back to Harry. "It's probably just one of Simmons' private projects."  
"I've got a gut feeling about this, Hermione."  
Hermione stood to face Harry. "I'm sorry, Harry. I know you were fond of Simmons. She was a gifted Auror, but you can't let grief convince you that there's more to this situation than there really is."  
"The Healers don't know what killed her. They've never seen anything like it."  
"I know," said Hermione evenly. "But they also said they were sure it wasn't a curse." Harry harrumphed. "That poor girl was sick--"  
"With what, Hermione? No one knows what it is."  
Hermione sighed. "Not having a name for an illness doesn't make it a curse."  
"Simmons copied these runes with a Muggle drawing pencil. You know how odd it is for a witch to do something like that."  
"Maybe she just liked the way it looked."  
"No, Simmons was an Auror not an artist. She thought this was magically significant."  
"You're reaching, Harry."  
"My instincts are still sharp, Hermione!" said Harry angrily.  
"I know that--of all people, I know that! But I need more proof, Harry. I can't take action without it."  
"Right," said Harry resolutely as he stuffed the parchment into his pocket. "I'll get proof." Harry turned and strode out of the room, leaving Hermione feeling guilty despite having done nothing wrong.  
~~~  
Remus Lupin sat behind his desk in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. His brow was furrowed as he scrutinized the odd-looking parchment Harry had given him to translate. Remus shook his head, but said nothing. He turned the parchment upside down and tried again to decode it.  
"Sorry, Harry," said Remus as he handed the parchment back. "It's just gibberish."  
"That's what Hermione said."  
"Why did you give it to me if Hermione had already translated it?"  
"I needed another opinion." Harry ran his hands through his messy black hair in frustration.  
Remus sat back in his chair studying Harry. "What's wrong?"  
"I'm sure you've read about the young Auror who died?"  
"Yes...tragic, my condolences, Harry."  
Harry nodded a curt thank you and continued straight to the point. "That girl was the cleverest trainee I've ever worked with. She had good instincts, Remus."  
"As good as yours?"  
"Yes, maybe better. She copied those runes for a reason; I'm sure of it."  
Remus' brow knitted together again. "Are you suggesting there's something dark associated with these runes?"  
"Yes," said Harry with conviction. "But I need proof and so far I haven't found any."  
Remus heaved a sigh. "If you need help with obscure Dark Magic, then you've come to the wrong wizard. You need to talk to Severus."  
Harry flopped into the nearest chair looking defeated. "I knew you'd say that."  
"Talking with Severus is like drinking a bad-tasting potion; It's best to get it overwith as quickly as possible."  
~~~  
Harry knocked on the front door of the Snape residence. The cheerful exterior of the home gave no indication that an ill-tempered unsociable wizard resided within it. Harry was steeling himself for Snape and hadn't  heard Lindsay's light step approaching; he was startled when she opened the door. Lindsay's hair was pulled back and she was wearing a smock covered in dabs of differently colored paint. She was obviously painting something.  
"Harry!" said Lindsay with pleasant surprise. "Do come in. I haven't seen you in ages. In fact, I think Lily was still in nappies--"  
"Sorry, I'm so busy at work that I barely have time for myself."  
Lin began walking toward the living room, waving Harry along with her. "Can I get you anything?"  
"Uh, no, I'm afraid this isn't a social call..."  
"It wouldn't have anything to do with that poor Simmons girl, would it?"  
Harry was momentarily taken aback as he didn't expect Lin to be so astute. He passed off her question as coincidental. "I'm afraid I can't say."  
"I understand. You're looking penseive, Harry, so I assume you want to talk to Severus."  
"Uh...yeah; is he in?"  
"He's in his micro dungeon...approach with caution."  
"Thanks, Lin."  
"Anytime."  
Lindsay disappeared in the direction of her art studio, and Harry walked to the kitchen. The backdoor was open, and Harry could see the patio. His mind churned and showed him a memory of the time he was permitted to spend the day with Sirius and the Weasleys; He'd forgotten about that day and wasn't prepared for the memory.  
The kitchen was filled with the pungeant stench of brewing potions. Harry wondered how Lin could cook meals with that horrible odor wafting up from the cellar. Harry approached the cellar stairs with dread--a dread he hadn't felt since he was a schoolboy; it was almost as if he was preparing for a Potions class. The cellar was still a dreary place, and Harry was sorely tempted to draw his wand for self-preservation purposes. The Dark Arts portraits that once graced the walls had been taken down because Snape's youngest child was still too young to see them. Harry suspected the portraits' removal to be Lin's doing.  
Harry reached the door to Snape's private laboratory and raised his hand to knock. He heard Snape's deep silky voice call to him before his knuckles had even touched the wood.  
"Enter."  
Harry opened the door to see Snape standing over a row of bubbling cauldrons; each marked with a number. Snape was obviously working on a new potion. Snape's black robes, stained with potions and dotted with tiny holes, were uncomfortably familiar and made Harry feel even more uneasy. Snape's hair was clean--no doubt due to Lin's influence--and was long enough to flow neatly down his back, almost to his waist; He was apparently using a spell to keep it in place while working. Harry was shocked to see that his own hair was much greyer than Snape's, whose shiny black hair had only the occasional white strand. Snape was sporting a very short black beard, which struck Harry as odd because Ginny had told him that Lin didn't like beards. Harry didn't know why the facial hair resonated so strongly with him.  
Snape was scribbling on a length of parchment and didn't look up. "What is it, Potter?" Snape's voice was dark and silky; but neither his tone, nor his bearing were confrontational.  
"Professor I--" Harry abruptly stopped himself.  
Snape set down his quill and passed his hand over his cauldrons, extinguishing the fire underneath each of them. "I am no longer your professor, Potter, and I have serious doubts that I was ever able to teach you anything at all."  
"Force of habit," said Harry sheepishly. Snape said nothing. "Look, Snape, I need your help." Harry stepped forward, parchment in hand, and passed it to Snape. "Can you translate that? It's important."  
Snape's eyes travelled quickly over the parchemnt and back up to meet Harry's. "Where did you get this?"  
"One of my Aurors found it."  
"Would that be the young lady who died recently?"  
"Yeah."  
"Describe her illness to me."  
"Dragon Pox, it was in the news."  
Snape handed the parchement back to Harry. "Don't be coy with me, Potter. I haven't the temperament."  
Hary pushed Snape's hand away. "I'm not supposed to say. It's top secret, you know."  
"Remind me, Potter. Which of us spent the majority of his adult life working as a double agent?"  
"Right," said Harry, feeling foolish. "Sorry." The horrible image popped into Harry's mind without hesitation. Harry took off his glasses to rub his eyes. "Her skin was black and...and she had..." Harry stifled a  gag.  
"Green pustules on her skin?"  
"You know what it says," said Harry. It wasn't a question. Harry felt a rush of excitement and a sense of vindication surge through him. He didn't realize that he was smiling. "I knew it wasn't gibberish! I knew it!"  
"Calm yourself, Potter."  
"Tell me what it says."  
"I will tell you this: Let it be. For everyone's safety, just let it rest, Potter."  
"What?" bellowed Harry. "I can't let it rest! One of my Aurors died because of that! She was one of my best--She was one of my kid--" Harry stopped abruptly. Yes, he thought of the trainees as his children; his responsibility, but that wasn't something he wanted Snape to know.  
"Mourn that unfortuante young lady and move on," said Snape as he, once again, tried to give Harry the parchment. Harry pushed Snape's hand again.  
"Can you translate that writing?" said Harry.  
"Yes," replied Snape evenly.  
"Then tell me what it says!"  
"No."  
"Why the hell not?" shouted Harry.  
Snape picked his wand up from the wooden work table and waved it over the parchment; it folded into a red, gold, and purple origami chicken. Snape handed it back to Harry for the last time. "Good day, Potter."  
"Good day?" repeated Harry angrily. "Good Day? You can't tell me to leave! Have you any idea the authorty I have within the Ministry?" Harry knew that was the wrong thing to say as soon as the words flew out of his mouth. Snape's eyes narrowed, he gripped the hilt of his wand, and his voice took on a dangerous quality.  
"Get out, Potter, or you'll discover just how much respect I have for your position in the Ministry!"                      
Harry regretted what he'd said, but he was still furious. He turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him. He was so angry, he left without saying goodbye to Lin. Harry went home with the origami chicken in his pocket, and found Ginny sitting at the kitchen table sorting the day's mail.  
Ginny lifted her head when she heard Harry enter the kitchen. "Remus told you to go to Snape, didn't he?"  
"How'd you know?"  
"You're quaking with rage. That's usually a side effect of speaking to Snape." Harry moved to put the kettle on, but didn't say anything. "So what happened? Can Snape read the runes?"  
"Yes."  
Ginny put down the mail. "And?" Harry pulled the paper chicken from his pocket and handed it to Ginny. "That's beautiful. Where did you get it?"  
"That's the parchment," said Harry, annoyed. "Snape charmed it."  
Ginny tried to stifle a laugh. "Why didn't you turn it back?"  
"I tried. I can't figure out what spell Snape used."  
"Is that why you have plasters on all your fingers?" laughed Ginny.  
"It' not funny, Ginny!"  
"It is, actually." Harry grabbed the chicken back. "So what does it say?" said Ginny, still laughing.  
"He wouldn't tell me."  
Ginny stopped laughing. "He can read it, but he won't tell you what it says?"  
"He told me to let it be."  
"Is that a warning?"  
"I think so," replied Harry.  
Ginny thought for a mometnt. "Maybe you should listen to him."


End file.
